


The Funny Thing About Keys

by patriciatepes



Category: Batman: The Animated Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Aliases, Canon mention of previous attempt at suicide, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, F/M, Gen, Interdimensional trouble, Kidnapping, Magic, Matter of Life and Death, Poisoning, Post-Season/Series 07, Rescue Missions, Search, Secret Identity, Talk of suicide attempt, forced to rely on enemy/rival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-09-25 02:29:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 57,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20369152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patriciatepes/pseuds/patriciatepes
Summary: When Buffy is poisoned and dying, Dawn is left no choice but to go to Gotham for the cure that she is told is too dangerous to retrieve. Time is on her side... too bad the universe isn't.





	1. Poison

**Author's Note:**

> The timeline is post-season 7 of Buffy with a few things taken from the comics. Nothing major is coming from the comics' storyline, just some details. As for Batman: the Animated Series, this is coming from season four, disregarding the Justice League series. Also, I've always wanted to write a fic where I used song titles as the chapter titles… turns out, this is just the fic. This is an older fic of mine that I enjoyed writing, and finished years ago for the WIPBigBang (2015, to be exact). I posted it on a few different sites, but I wasn't really posting much here at the time. Now, I am, and I'm moving some of the fics I really love over. It got some beautiful art by 20thcenturyvole. You can view that art [here.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4486602)

It was important. More than that, it was urgent. Or at least, "urgent" was what Xander's voicemail on her cell had said on the warm—nearly hot—Monday morning she had decided to check it.

"Come home as soon as possible. It's urgent, Dawnie. It's about Buffy," was what the simple, short message had said… in a rather strained voice.

Of course it was about Buffy. It was always about Buffy. And Dawn didn't mean that in the bratty way she used to say it. Her sister was the Slayer… the Head Slayer, in charge of an army of young women and girls who all possessed the strength her sister had possessed since she was fifteen. If anything was happening at Slayer HQ—or "home" as Xander had called it… Dawn just liked to think of it as "the huge, cold, unloving stone castle in Scotland"—her sister was most probably the cause of it, or at least involved.

So, after hearing that message, Dawn had rolled out of her extended twin-sized bed in her tiny closet of a dorm room and gotten dressed in a simple pair of jeans, a light long sleeve—it may not be cold in San Francisco, but she still wore long-sleeves… it was late November, nearly December, after all—and pulled her hair—cut to mid-back instead of the length she used to wear it—into a high ponytail. Before her roommate had even begun to wake up, Dawn had been out and across the campus, entering the building her professors all had offices in. To each one of her four teachers, she had explained her situation. Thankfully, she was able to persuade each one of them to give her the finals early. Which was lucky, as this was only her first semester in college… they could have told her that she wouldn't be able to handle an early final. By Thursday of that next week, she was in her current seat in coach on a plane that was minutes from landing. She had called Xander to have her meet her at the airport before she had taken flight.

The flight attendants had ushered forward their most bubbly, chesty blonde to walk around, making sure that everyone was wearing their seat-belts like the sign said they should. The woman, who was taller than Dawn, smiled down at her as she motioned to her seat-belt, locked snugly about her thin waist. By the time the attendant was back up at the front of the plane, the captain had announced that they had begun landing. Sighing, Dawn laid her head back against the headrest.

Between that Monday morning and now, Dawn had received no further calls with any further details from any of the other Scoobies. At first, she had panicked. After all, Xander had said "urgent," right? As the week had progressed, she had relaxed. No news was good news, she had decided as she had boarded the plane. Now as she could clearly see the concrete runway stretching out below her—why had she gotten a window seat?—she was beginning to get rather panicked again. The plane's wheels touched ground, and although it barely moved, Dawn jumped as if she had just been thrown forward—causing the gaunt-looking business man in the seat next to her to stare. She hated planes. The faster she got to the cold, unforgiving castle full of bubbly, excitable girls her age, and off this thing, the better.

#

The drive from the airport to the castle had been pleasant. Xander had been there—eye patch, commando-like black gear, and all—to pick her up as promised. But it did nothing to ease Dawn's worries. Xander had questioned her on college life, boys, and any other generally meaningless thing he could think of from airport to the moment he was helping her unload her luggage just inside the castle's courtyard. He was deliberately avoiding talking about the reason she was here, and it made her stomach twist.

"Well, Dawnie, I'm glad you're liking college," he said as he pulled her large, brown leather suitcase from trunk to ground. "I was never a college man myself, as you know. But it's important, I guess, to get that old sheepskin. Prove that you have had the proper training to be a helpful member to society and all that. Go after—"

"Xander!" she squealed at him.

He stopped, mid-word and mouth agape. His single eye blinked as she shook her head, her lips downturned.

"What's going on? Why am I here? Where's Buffy?" she asked, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Oh, that," he said, the words falling like a stone. "That… can wait. Why don't we get you set up first?"

Xander picked up the first thing his hand touched—her lavender backpack, which she had used as her carry-on on the plane—and rushed past her, heading towards the giant, fragile looking oaken doors that led to the main foyer of the castle. However, with one quick leap, Dawn threw herself in his path, placing her hands on his shoulders to make sure he didn't try to move around again. Her eyes narrowed, searching him as he looked away from her.

"You're scaring me," she said softly. "I want to see Buffy. Now."

He nodded after a moment or two, gesturing towards the castle's looming figure.

"She's in the infirmary room on the sixth floor. You know the one… you helped Willow set it up. I'll take your stuff to your room," he said, his voice still that heavy tone.

Dawn watched as he moved, a little slower now, and began to gather her stuff. Something was wrong. _Really_ wrong. Losing no more time, she turned and ran into the castle. She took the stairs two at a time and only paused after a couple of flights, when her legs were in a desperate need of a rest. Then, finally, she mounted the last few staircases, ran the length of a hall in no time, and all but flung herself into the infirmary room.

Two pairs of eyes—Buffy's and another Slayer's—met hers. It took a moment, but Dawn finally realized that Buffy was the one laying on the bed, with the Slayer she didn't recognize tending to her. Her sister looked fine, for all intents and purposes. Her jeans and white blouse were a little dirty, and there was a small cut offset to the right on her forehead… but she didn't look like she had been mauled or anything.

Buffy smiled, sitting up and putting her feet on the floor. The unnamed Slayer moved to stop her, but Buffy snapped a quick, "I'm getting up, move before I roundhouse your ass."

The Slayer squeaked a "yes, ma'am," and moved. Buffy stood and threw out her arms to embrace her sister. Dawn dashed forward and met her halfway.

"Buffy, what's wrong? Xander said it was urgent and about you. Then he babbled and wouldn't tell me anything. Are you all right?" Dawn spoke, very quickly, into her sister's shoulder.

Buffy pushed her sister gently back, holding her at arm's length. She smiled up at her and, for half a second, Dawn would have sworn that she had gotten even shorter. Buffy turned from her, after a moment, and motioned for the other Slayer in the room to leave. The young girl bustled out as if she had just been screamed at. Dawn watched as the door shut behind her before turning back and following Buffy over to the bed.

"That's new… the fear," she said as Buffy took a seat on the edge of the bed while Dawn pulled up the chair stationed on the bed's right.

"She's not scared of me, Dawnie. She's scared _for_ me, I think," her sister said in the voice Dawn liked to call her "the end of the world" voice… it was solemn and kind of weary.

She narrowed her eyes. "What's wrong? Why isn't anyone telling me anything?"

"Dawn… I don't know any way to put this lightly, so I'm just going to come out and say this. Promise not to wig out?"

Dawn made the motion of crossing her heart, her eyes glued on her sister's frowning face. Buffy took a deep breath and released it in a sigh. Looking her right in the eye, the Slayer got to the point.

"Dawn, I'm dying. I was poisoned in a fight, and there's no cure."

The world stopped turning. Everything around Dawn seemed frozen in place while her mind, meanwhile, was racing. A million and one memories flew through her mind: Buffy pushing her on the swing in the park after their parents' divorce, Buffy saving her life for the millionth time… Buffy telling her that their mother was dead. And that final thought brought Dawn back to the present as her mind replayed the words her sister had just spoken. She wanted to scream, cry, jump up from her chair and throw it. But she could get her body to do none of those things. Instead, she just slumped back, her gaze unfocused.

"Dawn?" Buffy asked, gently placing a hand on hers.

Dawn could feel the tears coming now. She looked at Buffy—or rather, at her forehead… she couldn't quite make herself look her in the eye. It would be too real if she saw Buffy's eyes.

"How?" she just managed to say.

"A fight. Some baddie lured me into a trap, hid, and shot me with a dart laced with the poison. He was a real cloak-and-dagger type of guy, too. He was heavy-set… and tall. That's all I could tell you. But he got me."

"How long?"

"Oh, I'll be alive for a while now. I mean… less than a year… but more than hours."

Dawn couldn't help it. She knew it was terribly inappropriate. But she laughed. Thankfully, Buffy laughed with her.

"That's real informative, Buffy!" she snapped in her laugher.

"I know. I'm sorry! In all honestly, I think I have about six or seven months, according to Giles and Willow," Buffy said, sitting back against the headboard of the bed.

Dawn's laughter stopped as quickly as it had started. All seriousness once again, her eyes narrowed.

"So… how are you feeling? Does it… hurt?"

Buffy shook her head, a wry smile on her face. "Right now, I just feel kind of tired. It'll get worse… but it's a super slow-mo type of poison."

"What type of poison did this guy use, that it has no cure, Buff?"

"Mystical. Totally home-manufactured, mystical poison."

A beat of silence followed this as Dawn's head continued to try and wrap her mind around this. Her sister, the indestructible, "I've-died-twice" Buffy… was dying. And slowly. And probably painfully in the long run. Well, Dawn wouldn't have it. She pushed herself out of her chair, staring down at a confused-face Buffy.

"Are you sure there's no cure? I mean, who creates a poison and doesn't create a cure! It doesn't make sense!" she said as she heard the heavy doors of the infirmary open behind her.

She gave a quick glance over her shoulder to see Xander and Willow enter. Willow—flow-y, olive green, peasant dress and all—swiftly wrapped her arms around Dawn's shoulders. Dawn returned hug, pushing back after a few seconds.

"Buffy, there has to be a cure," she said.

She watched as Willow and Xander exchanged a quick glance.

"There's not one," Buffy said sternly.

"Well, not one that—" Xander began, but stopped with harsh looks from the red-haired witch and pissed-looking Slayer.

"What?" Dawn pressed. She let her eyes pass over all three of them before they came back to rest on Xander. "What aren't you telling me? I'm not a child anymore. I'm in college for crying out loud! What is it, Xander?"

"Not one… that we have yet. Will's working very hard on the matter," he finished, lamely.

"Yes, I am. Working very hard on the mystical poison antidote. Nose to the grindstone and all," Willow was quick to add.

"You're lying to me," Dawn snapped, her eyes glaring down at her sister.

"No, we're not. Will is working very hard on this," Buffy said, her eyes on Xander.

Dawn glanced back at him as he averted his one eye away. She shook her head. It was as if she was in some alternate dimension where the Scoobies didn't give a damn if one of their own was dying or in need. She whirled back on her sister, angry tears rolling off her cheeks.

"I don't understand. Why won't any of you tell me? And why won't any of you go after this cure?"

"Dawn, listen to me. There's not one. Okay? End of discussion. Now, you've had a long flight. Go unpack, and we'll hang out when you get done. That sound good?" Buffy said as gently and as sternly as she could manage.

"I'll find out what you're hiding. I always do," she snapped before turning and striding out of the room.

She was halfway up the cold, stone hall when a thought occurred. As silently as she could, she turned back and tiptoed her way all the way back to the infirmary, stopping just before she reached the door. Leaning as far over as she dared, she strained her ears, trying to catch whatever her sister and her friends were saying.

"Dawn's right, Buffy. I just wanted to say that, for the record," she heard Xander say.

"I have to agree. I mean, _I_ could go after the cure," Willow's voice added.

"No. It's too dangerous for anyone to go, Will."

"Do you really think that I can't handle it?"

"No. I know you with all your witchy badassness could probably do it… but the key word there is 'probably.' Look, this guy is dangerous. More dangerous, maybe, than some of the baddies we've faced."

"Guy?" Dawn mouthed. The cure was a person? Was that why Buffy didn't want anyone to go after it? Was it another "key" situation? Kill the guy, get the cure? Or was it really that someone, some human, could be _that_ dangerous?

"I find that hard to believe," Xander scoffed.

"I've read all about him since Giles told me. You never know what he'll do. No, he's not a vampire, he's not magical, but he is still dangerous. And I'm not having anyone risking their life over this… over me. I'd go myself, but Giles doesn't think that sending a sick Slayer out is wise."

"What about one of the other hundred or so Slayers we have here?" Willow asked.

"No. None are trained enough to deal with this guy. End of discussion, guys. No one goes after him."

And with that, the topic changed. Dawn leaned back against the darkened stone wall. Giles knew what the cure was? They all knew? And they wouldn't tell her? Why?

A lightbulb went off in Dawn's head. Giles was the key to solving her problem… In the past few years, the former-Watcher had done some things that were not quite to Buffy's liking. If she could weasel what—or rather, who—the cure was out of anyone, it would be Giles. Once again, moving as quietly as possible, Dawn disappeared towards the western half of the castle… where Giles kept his room and library.


	2. Renegade

Dawn's sneakers squealed on the stone floor as she came to a halt so close to Giles's door that her nose was almost touching it. She gave a couple of quick glances over her shoulders—wondering vaguely why anyone would be following her if she had done her sneaking well enough—and knocked a couple of times, hard. She didn't bother waiting for an answer as she pushed the door open and peeked her head in. For a moment, she realized that this might have been a bad idea. Giles could have been in the middle of something that she _so_ didn't want to see. After all, she had just learned that her sister was dying… she didn't need another mental scarring like "Naked Giles" to join in.

Thankfully, Giles was good ol', fully-dressed, musty book reading Giles. He turned from his place at a rather large, very well equipped writing desk and blinked at her. With one hand, he closed the large, yellowed tome he had been reading and stood, smiling softly at her.

"Have you seen Buffy?" he asked.

"Tactful. And here I thought the British were nothing but tact… but, yeah, I've seen her. And I've heard. That's kind of why I'm here," Dawn replied, entering the room fully and shutting the door behind her.

With a sigh, the former Watcher whipped his glasses off and began to clean their lenses almost compulsively.

"I'm sorry. You're right. How are you, Dawn?" he asked, replacing his glasses.

He pulled around the desk's chair to face the foot of his spacious bed as he took his seat there. Dawn crossed the room and plopped down into the chair. Sighing, she shrugged.

"Other than the dying sister that nobody seems to want to cure, I'm cool. Couldn't be better," she quipped.

Giles almost visibly winced.

"Dawn, there's no cure. Surely they told you that?"

She crossed her arms and cocked her head just barely to the right. Rolling her eyes, she frowned.

"I'll call bullshit. Want to try again?"

Giles blinked and seemed to be on the verge of scolding her for her use of language. Dawn set her face, ready to give her best "I'm-an-adult-and-in-college" argument, should he begin to lecture her. However, his argument seemed to die in his throat.

"Dawn. I don't know what to say. There's no cure… no way to save her. If there was, I would—"

"Xander started to say that there was one. And I overheard Buffy, Willow, and Xander all talking about some guy who, apparently, is the cure or can cure it or something. So, just knock it off, Giles, and spill. What's going on? Why isn't anyone going after this cure?"

Giles pulled off his glasses and began to clean them again. Dawn had to fight hard against knocking them out of his hands and yelling at him to stop it. However, the urge passed as he reached around her to set them on the desk. Clasping his hands and resting his arms on his lap, he shook his head.

"Fine. If you've heard that much, then you've heard how dangerous the 'cure' is. Buffy doesn't want anyone to go after him that she doesn't think can handle it," he said, quietly.

Dawn leaned forward, staring the older man right in the eyes. "So, the cure _is_ a person? How? And why is that stopping everyone? I heard Buffy say that he's in no way mystical… this shouldn't be stopping us."

"It is your sister's… wish that none of us put ourselves in harm's way for this cure. We should honor that."

"Since when do you honor Buffy's wishes all the time? I mean, were you honoring them when you tried to kill Spike? Or when you left for England?"

Giles stood, glaring down at her. "That's not fair. I did those things because I truly believed they were the right things to do."

Dawn stood as well, and although she was still shorter than him, she stared him down as if there was no difference at all.

"And going after this cure is the right thing to do. Buffy is my sister, and she's like a daughter to you. We love her. But if that's not enough to convince you to want to save her… she's also now the leader of an untold number of Slayers, with more being found every day. There's not a Slayer here who could handle that, train them, as well as Buffy could. Not Faith, not Kennedy, not Vi… none of them. She's the only one who can do it. She _needs_ to live."

At that, they both simply stood there for a moment, as if seeing who would blink first. Finally, Giles sank back onto the bed. With a half-hearted motion, he directed that Dawn should sit as well.

"You're right, of course. And I'm sure you are aware that this exchange must stay between us?" he asked, sparing a second's glance at his door.

Dawn nodded. "Yeah. Now, what's going on?"

Giles took a deep breath, and then went into full Watcher lecture mode.

"To understand how this man that we'll be speaking of is the cure, you must understand how it all came to be. Which means, first let me tell you of the creator of both the poison and the antidote. He was a powerfully dark magician by the name of William Cane. His specialty was potions, of all shapes and sizes, but mostly deadly. He was known to make poisons and sell them to the highest bidder, be it vampire, demon, or any other creature that happened to learn about him. So, the Watcher's Council tried to stop him. He managed to escape and hide… but years later, after his death, the Council learned what had become of him."

Dawn listened in silence, waiting for the moment of revelation to come. As the story stood so far, she had no idea where Giles was going with any of this.

"Come to find out," he continued, "Cane had jumped the pond to the States, settling himself inside Gotham City. There, using the generous funds he had acquired selling his potions and poisons, he set up a business to act as a cover for his magically dealings. Which, as you know, is rather common for magicians on the run to do."

"Like Ethan Rayne with the costume shop and the band candy?" Dawn asked.

"Precisely. A rather ingenious cover, I might add, as no one would have thought twice to seeing large quantities of oddly colored liquid just lying around."

"Okay…" Dawn said slowly. "So, how does this end up with some guy being the cure to this poison?"

"Well, as most realize, it's rather stupid to create a special poison—like the one Buffy was hit with—without creating its antidote."

"What if someone turns it against you… I get it."

"Right," Giles said, smiling briefly at her, apparently pleased to see that she was keeping up. "Well, Cane dedicated some of his resources to creating the antidote, which he did, successfully. The problem was that the antidote by itself was just as deadly as the poison. Together, the two cancel each other out… but separate… well, the antidote, I daresay, is actually far deadlier. Death was almost instantaneous. He tried it out on no less than fifteen subjects, all of whom died. The poison is meant for a slow death… best for exacting revenge. The antidote was more of like a quick fix to any such problem. Well, as time went on, the company grew and was more than able to maintain itself."

Dawn's brow furrowed. "What did he disguise it as? His company?"

"A chemical factory. Have no idea what he said the 'chemicals' he made was supposed to do, but no one seemed to question that. I suspect he bewitched any who asked into avoiding just such a question. Now, as I was saying, the antidote is deadly. And, currently, none in its pure form has survived."

Now Dawn's eyes widened. "Then, how are we supposed to be able to cure Buffy?"

"Patience. I'm getting to it. The antidote, as Cane discovered, left large traces of itself in the victim's bloodstream. Ultimately, that's what killed them. None survived his testing trials, and he eventually stopped them. However, there was one who took a large dosage of the antidote, accidentally, and survived. The antidote, like many of the other potions and poisons Cane created, was disguised as a vat of chemicals within the factory. One night, a group of criminals broke into his factory, trying to break into the factory conjoined next door. A fight ensued, and one of the criminals accidentally fell into the vat of antidote. Of course, I doubt that this was _entirely_ by accident. Cane most probably placed a Bad Luck Charm on any who entered the factory by force."

Dawn sighed. Rolling her eyes, she snapped, "I'm on the edge of my seat, Giles. Get to the point!"

Giles cleared his throat. "Right, yes. Well, the criminal survived and was flushed out into the city's river, along with the antidote. The antidote was lost forever, since this incident was shortly followed by Cane's death—he never shared the _exact_ recipe with anyone… but the criminal is largely well known. I know you've heard of him, Dawn. Anybody who's heard any of the news coming out of Gotham has heard… of the Joker."

The Joker. The bane of Batman, Gotham, and all people sane. Of course Dawn had heard of him. She had heard a lot about him… in fact, one of the people she had met in college was doing a report on him for one of their classes. He was trouble with a capital "T." And suddenly, she understood why Buffy didn't want anyone going after him. After all, if any human posed a truly real threat on the world, _without_ mystical powers, then it was the Joker.

Dawn launched herself out of her chair. "How is that possible? How is he supposed to help cure my sister?"

"Don't misunderstand me. He isn't supposed to _help_ cure Buffy. He, physically, _is_ the cure. Or his blood is, rather. He's the only person who has survived the antidote… and at such a high dosage. If Buffy were to be injected with his blood, it would not just kill, but annihilate the poison that is coursing through hers."

"Okay," Dawn said after a couple of deep breaths. "Fine. So… what happens now? I mean, how much blood do we need? Does he have to die so that Buffy can live?"

She really hoped not. As horrible as the Joker was, he was still human. And if Buffy had taught Dawn anything, it was that humans had their own laws… and that their lives were not to be taken by anything or anyone associated with the Slayer. But if that was what she had to do to save Buffy…

"No, I don't believe so. A vial, possibly two, should be more than adequate to save Buffy. But it won't be easy. Joker is one of the most highly watched criminals in history. If you are serious about going after him… you'll need some help."

"I can't take anybody with me. They'll rat me out," Dawn said.

"You're absolutely right. However, I have many friends who can pull many strings. I can get you fake ids, a fake passport, not to mention all the magical resources you might need to hide yourself from being found out by Willow."

"Or one of the SWs," Dawn replied.

SW was a term Dawn had been desperately trying to get started that referenced those who were both Slayer and Wiccan. By the look on Giles's face, that term wasn't going to be used again anytime soon. She sighed.

"Okay," she said. "So what do I do?"

Giles reached over to his desk, picking up a cell phone from one its shelves. Flipping the small, thin, black phone open, he gave a curt nod to Dawn.

"Give me two days. Then, we'll send you to Gotham."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter One's title came from the song of the same name by Alice Cooper, or the cover by Groove Coverage. Whichever you prefer.


	3. Almost Paradise

The two days had passed slowly. More so than anything else Dawn had ever remembered in her life. More slowly than waiting for Christmas Day from the perspective of Christmas Eve. More so than a horrible movie that you're being forced to watch for a grade. More slowly than anticipating… well, anything, really. And the two days were not particularly easy to pass, either. Her anger at her sister and the rest of the Scoobies had subsided somewhat—which tends to happen when you make plans to take matters into your own hands. However, to avoid suspicion, she had to keep up the ruse of being pissed at them. So, "civil" took the place of "friendly" whenever she encountered one of the original Scoobies. She felt horrible, especially since she had no idea how long it would take her to get a vial of the Joker's blood, which meant that she had no idea how long she would be gone. But Xander, Willow, and the rest of the surviving Scoobies seemed used to her "righteous" anger, and took it all in stride.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the two days had ended, and Giles came to her. He had shoved a thick, almost over-full yellow business envelope into her hands. Glancing over his shoulder, he had bent his head down to hers and whispered to ensure that no one could hear them… which was silly since they were safely tucked away in Dawn's room.

"It's all there," he had said. "Passport, driver's license, even a social security card. A plane ticket is tucked in there as well. You leave tomorrow evening. My friend also gave me the proper spells to perform that will keep Willow and the Slayer Wiccans off your scent. Not permanently, mind you… but for a good long while."

So, after Giles had performed the "let's hide Dawn" mojo, she had packed her bags with only a few basic essentials and some personal items—to make her new "self" look like she had existed more than just days. Giles had also assured her that she would have everything she would need to actually live in Gotham for as long as she needed. Just after the spells were completed, Giles offered one last bit of information before exiting Dawn's room.

"Currently, the Joker is locked up in Arkham Asylum. You have an interview with a Dr. Joan Leland for an orderly position that takes place exactly four hours after your plane touches down in Gotham."

Dawn had dug out her plane ticket then to look at the estimated arrival times. Her eyebrow arched.

"Isn't this at night?" she asked.

Giles shrugged. "Dr. Leland assured me that she would there. Of course… there _might_ have been some magical persuasion involved."

At this, the former Watcher had winked at her. Dawn laughed and shook her head. With tidings of "good luck," Giles had left the room. And the following night, Dawn had successfully left for Gotham.

#

She had arrived in the darkened—and frankly, dismal—city precisely four hours earlier. She caught the nearest taxi and made one stop before going to her interview at Arkham—a clothing shop. Giles had also provided her with some starter cash, which Dawn thought might best be put to use ensuring that she looked presentable enough to hire. After buying a pair of gray women's slacks and a sky-blue button up shirt, she used the store's restroom to switch from her rumpled flight clothes and made her way to the asylum.

Once she had arrived, she asked for the taxi to wait for her while she interviewed. The driver had grunted, shrugged, and said, "Your dime."

Dawn had been admitted to see Leland almost immediately. Shaking hands with her, Dawn took a seat in the very comfortable chair across from the woman's desk. Dr. Leland seemed like a pleasant enough psychiatrist, both in personality and in looks. Her ear-length hair was being restrained by a simple hair band, and her dark skin was almost blemish-free. Dawn envied her for a moment.

Leland raised an eyebrow. "You're younger than I expected from your phone call."

Dawn had to stop herself from asking, "What phone call?" Of course, Giles had probably made it seem as if she herself had inquired about the job, instead of some relatively strange man doing it for her. Poor bewitched psychiatrist. Dawn smiled and shrugged.

"Is that a bad thing?" she asked.

"You can't be over eighteen years old," Leland guessed.

Dawn huffed. "Nineteen, actually," she said, trying to keep her voice pleasant.

"And you're… _willingly_ applying to work here?"

Define "willingly," Dawn thought.

"Yes," she answered.

"Excuse my frankness, but… why? I mean, a young woman your age should be working in a fast food place, a restaurant, a café, a clothing store… anywhere but an asylum… especially Arkham."

Giles couldn't have just bewitched Leland a little further into just giving Dawn the job? No, of course not. That would have been too easy. Dawn's smile was becoming a little strained.

"Honestly? I'm new to town. I'm taking a break from college to work up the funds to go back. And the asylum pays more than all those other places you just mentioned. Dr. Leland, I believe I can do this job, and do it well."

Leland eyed her for a moment. Finally, she leaned forward, resting her hands on her desk. "Very well. This job is dangerous and hard. You know that, right?"

"Yes. I have some experience with both, to be honest. I helped a dear friend of mine care for her girlfriend after she had had a… um, mental breakdown," Dawn said.

She hated fudging the truth of Tara's story to meet her needs. But she knew that the deceased witch, wherever she may be, would understand. After all, it was all to save Buffy's life.

Leland seemed to be trying to read Dawn, to see if she had been telling the truth. After a few moments, she nodded, seemingly satisfied.

"Normally, I wouldn't hire one as young as you are or as quickly as I am, but… I'm desperately short on orderlies. Let me get some forms here for you to sign and you can start Monday," she said, pulling some papers out of a right-hand drawer in her desk.

Dawn's face lit up. "Really? Thank you!"

Leland made a noise that was somewhere between a scoff and a laugh as she pushed the papers towards Dawn. "Don't thank me yet. Please sign where the Xs are and fill in your tax information, Miss Winters."

Dawn fought the slight cringe she felt at that name. It wasn't that she was unfamiliar with her new alias, Dawn Winters. Dawn Marie Winters, to be precise. She had read over all her information on the plane over. It was just that, as far as fake last names went, that one was pretty lame, considering her _actual_ last name. Apparently, Giles's brain had simply shut down when it had come to choosing a name for her. However, she forced her smile back into place as she filled out all the appropriate numbers and signed in all the right places. Sliding the finished paperwork back at Leland, both of them stood.

Shaking hands, Leland grinned. "Welcome aboard, Miss Winters. You don't know how badly we need orderlies. Nobody wants this job. I'm sure you can understand…"

Dawn nodded, the sounds of various inmates causing various troubles reaching her ears. Inwardly, she groaned. Arkham Asylum held all of the most dangerous criminals known to Gotham city, and she had just waltzed in and applied to work with a bright and chipper smile in place. But she _would_ save Buffy, no matter what.

"You'll be on the early evening shift. Be here at five p.m. Monday," Leland said, gesturing politely for Dawn to exit.

Dawn thanked the doctor again as she exited the asylum quickly—trying desperately to make it look like she wasn't _trying_ to exit quickly. Her mind was whirling and swirling with worry as she descended the stone steps of the gaunt building and got back into the backseat of her still-waiting cab.

Monday was still days away. Not many… only like, two. But two days was a lot when your sister's impending death and the inevitable up-close-and-personal meeting with the madman that was the only chance to save her life were the only two things on your mind. But she knew she had time. The last time she had spoken to Buffy, hours before her departure, her sister hadn't even been feeling the effects of it yet. And Giles had said that the poison was slow, meant for revenge.

It took the cab driver three tries to get Dawn to focus enough to give him a destination. With a sheepish apology, she opened her mouth to give the address to her new apartment (which had also been included in her packet of information)—one that she had memorized, which made her feel both proud of herself and very 007—when she paused. She did have to _live_ in this city, and she doubted that whoever had set up her apartment—since the information had said that it _was_ set up—had stocked it with food. She withdrew her wallet from her purse and did a quick count—just by eyeing it—of her funds. She still had plenty.

"Um, do you know where there are any good grocery stores? And maybe a department store?" she asked.

She saw her auburn-haired driver raise a bushy brow at her through the rear-view mirror.

"There's a Super Wal-Mart out on the highway. Would that work, Miss?" he asked, as if her question had been the stupidest in the world.

And, when she thought about it, it hadn't exactly been smart. After all, Wal-Mart was everywhere now. Swallowing her pride, and trying to control the warm blush she felt spreading across her cheeks, she nodded.

#

It was quite a feat to load all her grocery bags, her luggage, and herself into the elevator of her new apartment building, but she managed. Luckily, there was a rather kind elderly couple who lived on the same floor as hers—the floor just below the topmost floor—who held the elevator door open for her as she carried her numerous bags up the hallway to her apartment's door—Apartment 1920.

Her taxi fee had been huge, as she had even had the man wait for as she shopped inside Wal-Mart. He had been more than happy to do so, as it was, after all, her dime. She had bought enough groceries to get through two weeks (which equals a hell of a lot of bags… it had been a _very_ kind elderly couple holding the elevator for her), plus four sets of medical scrubs to work in. Thankfully, she had packed a comfortable pair of walking sneakers in her luggage, so shoes had not been a problem.

Now, she stood outside of Apartment 1920, digging inside her purse for her key while juggling as many bags as she could, the elderly couple long gone. Down the hall, she heard the elevator _ding_, but didn't bother to look up.

"Where the hell is that thing? You would think we keys would help each other out!" she muttered, resorting to putting the plastic handle of one of her bags into her mouth to give her a little more movement.

A couple more minutes of digging, and Dawn's jaw just couldn't take it anymore. Giving way against her will, the bag dropped from her mouth, threatening to spill its contents all over the hallway. She let out a little squeal of surprise as two arms appeared in her eyesight to scoop up the bag before it crashed to the floor. Following the rather toned arms up to their owner, she blinked. Her Grocery Savior was a rather attractive man—dressed all in black, with his equally raven black hair, which extended halfway down his back, tied into a low ponytail—who now stood, smiling jovially at her.

"You must be new to the city," he said as Dawn blushed.

"That obvious?" she asked, finally finding her key.

She fought against rolling her eyes. Of course she would find it right _after_ disaster. Things were not boding well. However, the guy was still standing there, holding her fruits and veggies, and he was really good looking. Really. Unbelievably.

But, then again, he hadn't introduced himself yet. And he seemed to be laughing at her.

"Yeah, pretty obvious. Nobody does heavy shopping like this without having someone to help them… and well, it looks like you expect your cupboard to be empty. Not to mention the luggage."

Dawn arched a brow. "Very nice work, Mr. Holmes, but now onto this business about the snake…"

She wanted to slap herself. Here was another extremely hot guy, who may or may not be a vampire—as yet to be determined—and she was making a literary reference. An extremely dorky one at that. It really _was_ like a disease. Thankfully, he laughed… and not a pity one.

"_The Adventure of the Speckled Band_. That one was my favorite Holmes short stories," he said. Then, as if suddenly remembering, he offered his hand. "I'm Dick Grayson. I own the loft apartment on the floor above."

She took his hand and shook it, happy to find it nice and warm. Nope, not a vampire. Unless he had just fed… She really hoped he wasn't of the undead persuasion.

"Cool," she stated, really wishing she had said something else. She felt so childish every time "cool" was her only response to something. So, hurriedly, she added, "Which one?"

"Excuse me?" he asked.

"Um, which loft do you own? Upstairs?"

He stared at her for a minute, as if she had suddenly started speaking a really weird foreign language. Finally, he laughed, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry… I didn't realize. Um, it's the _only_ loft upstairs. It was added only in the last couple of years. Elevator doesn't even go to it… that's why I have to stop here, and take the stairs over there."

He tossed his chin in some general direction behind Dawn, who nodded. Then, looking down, he glanced around at her numerous shopping bags. When he looked back at her, he had a brow arched.

"Do you need a hand getting all this stuff in?"

"Huh?" Dawn asked, before quickly shaking herself. "Uh, yeah. Thanks."

She shoved her little silver key into the door's lock, twisted it once, and let herself inside. And paused.

The apartment was nice. But, to be honest, nice didn't really cover it. It was a _fantastic_ apartment that must be costing Giles or whoever was helping her pay for it a fortune. The door opened up right into the living room, which was carpeted in a pleasant crème-color with an off-white paint on its walls. The couch and chairs that occupied the room looked like white leather and were facing a mid-size flat screen TV. The living room and the kitchen were separated by a breakfast bar that possessed a black, granite counter and was painted—below the counter—the same color as the living room walls. The kitchen was done in black in white, with all its appliances being silver. She could see two doors that opened up into the bathroom and bedroom that stood a few feet off from the kitchen and living room.

"Nice place," Dick said, stepping inside behind Dawn.

Definitely not a vampire. Good news. He leaned around her to stare at the rather surprised look on her face.

"Have you never… been here?" he asked.

Dawn blinked. "No. I haven't. My, um, uncle set me up. Otherwise, I would never be able to afford this. He's helping me out because he understands my… situation."

Great, she thought as the gestured towards the breakfast bar. Now she sounded like she was pregnant. Sighing, she and Dick deposited the bags upon the bar. With two sets of hands, it took a matter of moments to move all of Dawn's things inside. Neither of the two closed the apartment's door, both very aware that they were still strangers to one another. Best not to feel trapped and helpless. Especially in a city with a reputation like Gotham's. Dick moved slowly over to Dawn's groceries as she moved to unzip one of her suitcases—the one with personal effects in it. The apartment was too white. It felt cold and impersonal. She needed to add her own touches to it, and fast.

"I'll help you put up the groceries, if you'd like, Miss… uh, I haven't gotten your name yet," he said.

Dawn blinked. Smiling over at him, a faint blush creeping over her face for the second time that night, she said, "It's Dawn. Dawn Winters. Just call me Dawn… and you don't have to do that. You've been plenty helpful already."

"Ah, don't mention it," he said, already beginning on the frozen foods. "I know how hard it is to get started on your own. Not to mention, your 'situation' sounds pretty serious. Not that I mean to pry."

He said that last sentence quickly, and Dawn smiled down at her open suitcase. Moving around now, depositing picture frames onto shelves and such, she shrugged. She had to give him a story, and one that would be believable. She didn't want anyone to think that she had something to hide.

"I was in college, but I decided to take a break. I mean, I don't want to leave with gigantic student loans or anything, so I thought I'd take some time off to save up. My uncle's rather well off and understood, so he decided to give me a leg up. Which, as it turns out, was a pretty nice leg," she said, pausing to take in her apartment once again.

Dick laughed as he finished putting away the last few grocery items. Dawn was also reaching the end of the personal items she had packed. Finally, reaching in, she withdrew the last item. The thick, yellow belt she had earned just months ago.

"You do martial arts?" Dick asked, coming to stand in front of the breakfast bar.

Dawn smiled proudly. "Yeah. I haven't been to a class in a few weeks, seeing as the place I was learning at was a couple of blocks away from my college… in California."

"Ah, California girl. That explains the weird accent," he smiled.

Dawn bit her lip, trying her best not to let her "wide, goofy" grin loose. "I don't have a 'weird' accent."

Dick shrugged. "Well, sounds weird to me. What did you practice, in your dojo?"

"Judo… my sister wanted me to learn self-defense if I was going to live so far away from her. And I really wanted to learn, to be honest."

…Which was completely true. Buffy had all but forced her into that dojo when she had dropped her little sister off in San Francisco. And Dawn had not needed much forcing.

"Well, that's a nice coincidence, I run a dojo upstairs… that's why I need the large loft. Judo's one of the things I teach," Dick said.

"Really? I'd love to start practicing again," Dawn said.

And she would. Maybe she could "Judo chop" the Joker into submission if she got good enough, fast enough. She had to fight giggling at that thought. After all, she didn't want to scare the new, cute, upstairs neighbor-guy.

"I could teach you. Free of charge," he offered.

Dawn's eyes widened. "I-I couldn't ask you to do that!"

Dick scoffed. "Don't worry about it. Think of it as a 'welcome to Gotham' gift. After all, everyone needs to know how to protect themselves in Gotham. What do you say?"

"… Sure! Thanks."

"Not a problem," Dick said, right as his cell phone started to ring. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a slim, black phone, hit a button, and pressed it to his ear. After several "yeahs" and "uh-huhs," he flipped it closed again.

"I'm sorry, Dawn, but I've got to go. How about you call me to let me know when you're free to train?" he said, quickly scrawling his number on the back of Dawn's grocery receipt—which she assumed he had found within one of the bags.

"Sure," she said, accepting it as he disappeared out the door, closing it behind him.

Furrowing her brow, Dawn turned to the rest of her luggage to begin putting away her clothes. He had left in an awful hurry. She found herself hoping that it wasn't anything too important. Staring at the number as she piled clothes over her arm, she grinned.

"If my luck holds, maybe Joker will just _give_ me his blood," she laughed, disappearing into her room.

Moments later, Dawn felt like the world's biggest tourist as she gawked through her living room window at the bright Bat Signal, shining across the Gotham skyline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter's title was inspired by "Renegade" by Styx


	4. Smile

Monday had come faster than Dawn had expected it would. After all, she had been anticipating it. But, in truth, she had been dreading it as well. The Joker wasn't the only inmate in Arkham—of course, arguably, he was the most dangerous. There had been several moments over the past weekend where Dawn had wondered if she was in over her head. But then she would remember why she was in Gotham and why she had taken this job. Buffy had never failed to save her life, and, now, it was Dawn's turn to save her sister.

So, dressed in mauve scrubs with white sneakers, Dawn crawled out of the backseat of the taxi, paying the driver as she went. She watched as the stereotypical yellow and black vehicle pulled away from the gates of the asylum, leaving only Dawn behind. Turning with a heavy sigh, she stepped up to the guard post and gave her name. The guard had nodded, telling Dawn that Dr. Leland had informed him of the new orderly, and gave her a laminate security badge.

"Wear this at all times while on duty, Miss Winters," he said as Dawn clipped it to the neck of her scrubs.

"Will do," she said as the guard turned and hit the switch to raise the caution bar in front of her.

"I'm Walter, by the way. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask," he called after her.

Dawn waved her hand to show him that she had heard him and mounted the stairs to the asylum's main entrance. Once inside, it took her moments to locate Dr. Leland, as she was standing in front of her office. The doctor turned and smiled at Dawn as she lowered her arm, a gold watchband glimmering in the building's dim light.

"Ten minutes early. I like that. Now, I've got to run, but I was waiting on you to get you all set up," Leland said.

Dawn nodded as she turned from her and waved over another orderly, this one dressed in well-worn white scrubs.

"This is Alisha, and she's the Senior Orderly around here," Leland said as the other orderly arrived.

Alisha's super-curly, bottle-blonde hair was bound atop her head in messy piles. Her nails were short, but still painted a bright red that easily stood out the most of anything else… but at least they matched her equally-as-red lips. Her skin was olive-toned, tanned, and youthful in such as way that the word "Botox" immediately came to Dawn's mind. Her bright green eyes crinkled almost painfully at their corners as she smiled at her.

"Alisha will show you the ropes around here. Now, I'm leaving for the evening. Listen to everything this woman tells you, and you'll be just fine. Have a nice evening, you two," Leland said, turning to close and lock her office door.

Both Dawn and Alisha waved as Leland departed. When the doctor was out of sight, the head orderly turned and crossed her arms.

"I'm afraid I didn't catch your name," she said, her smile beginning to stretch her face unnaturally.

"Dawn Winters. But, just Dawn. Uh, nice to meet you, Miss Alisha," Dawn said, putting out a hand.

"Oh, please, just Alisha," she said as she took Dawn's hand and shook it once. "My, my… you're so young!"

"So I'm told," Dawn shrugged.

Alisha laughed a high pitched screech of a laugh that echoed unpleasantly off the asylum's stone walls. Dawn had to fight covering her ears at the noise. Sighing, the head orderly placed a protective arm around her, leading her off up the hallway.

"Now, I'm supposed to show you your duties. They're simple enough, if all the rules are followed. Basically, since all the patients here at Arkham are also inmates, we're just here to assist the police."

As if to illustrate her point, she gestured to a fully-armed and outfitted Gotham Police Officer as the two passed the young man up. The cop tipped his hat to Dawn, who gave him a small, almost weak, smile in return. Alisha gave Dawn a tiny little hug, bringing her attention back to her trainer.

"What we do is feed the inmates, do their laundry, pick up after them—especially in the Rec Room, and so on. Just basic housekeeping type jobs. Am I going too fast?"

The two women rounded a corner and stopped as a line of police officers, two-by-two with each pair having a single person in between them, came filing out of a room. Dawn looked up to see Alisha—who stood a couple of inches taller than she did—knit her brow worriedly. Glancing down at her watch, she sighed.

"That's early," she murmured before adding, aloud, "they must have tried to start something. See that room they're leaving from? That's the Rec Room. And it looks almost empty. Tell you what, I'm going to drop you off with another one of my orderlies in there and let you help her clean up while I help these officers move the inmates. This'll be part of your duties soon too—too soon, if you ask me, but, what with the lack of orderlies… Anyway, we'll pick up your training a little later tonight. Just stick with an orderly if you can't find me. Now, off you go!"

Dawn had decided, as she watched Alisha depart with the inmates and cops, that the head orderly was just too cheerful to be working in a place like this. She wondered, briefly, if that—like the woman's youthful appearance—was drug induced as well. As soon as the morbid parade of cops, inmates, and Alisha had cleared the doorway to the Rec Room, Dawn slipped inside.

Chairs, tables, the sofa, and game pieces were overturned and scattered everywhere. Only a single orderly, another woman who looked only two or three years older than Dawn herself, occupied the room, sighing as she went about cleaning it. The woman's brown hair was cut in a short bob and she wore navy blue scrubs with shoes almost exactly like Dawn's. Her thin lips were pressed tightly shut and her chocolate eyes were downcast. Taking another tentative step into the room, Dawn cleared her throat to announce her presence.

"Oh!" the woman said, looking up and jumping.

Dawn grinned apologetically as the woman placed a hand against her heart.

"I'm sorry. I'm Dawn… the new orderly. Alisha dropped me off in here and told me to help you clean."

"Oh, well, that's all right, then, isn't it? I'm Megan, and I'm usually stuck cleaning this stupid room by myself… and not a one of those criminals can be in here together for more than five minutes without getting into a fight with another one. Here," she said, crossing the room and pulling a pair of latex gloves from her pocket. "Ivy was in here. You don't want to touch anything with your bare hands. Learned that the hard way."

"Thanks," Dawn said, putting on the gloves quickly. She knew what horrible things that something mystical could do to you if you touched them without preparing. And she had heard all about Poison Ivy's plants and toxins. She didn't want to know what nasty things _those_ could do to you if you touched one without gloves or any other type of protection.

Dawn immediately started setting the furniture right-side up as Megan continued to gather scattered game pieces, talking all the while.

"So, you're new here, huh? I've only been here a year myself. Oh, but the things you'll see in this place! I'm telling you… if you've got a weak stomach, get out now."

Dawn didn't say anything at first. Instead, she kept an eye on Megan, waiting to see what would happen if silence fell. The woman looked as if she was just _bursting_ to share some of those "things" she had seen. Dawn fought down a grin. Megan was a gossip. Just what she needed to get the inside scoop on all things Joker.

"So… what kind of things are you talking about?" Dawn said, trying to make herself sound innocently curious. Which, wasn't she? Well, "innocent" might be pushing it a bit far.

But Megan just seemed happy enough to share. She started with Poison Ivy and the time she had broken out using a giant beanstalk. Following that, she spoke about an inmate known as The Ventriloquist whose wooden gangster dummy did all the thinking. Next, she talked about the time Riddler was asking riddles of anyone who brought him his food. Finally, she mentioned a name that caught Dawn's attention.

"… And, of course, you've heard about Harley Quinn, right? And what the Joker did to that woman?"

Dawn turned from her place over a trunk that she was putting away all the board games into. She _had_ heard of Harley Quinn before… who hadn't? But she had always thought that the story she had heard had to be mostly made up. After all, the version Dawn had heard had sounded so much like a soap opera story-line it was ridiculous. So, in interest of hearing what could possibly be the "true" story of the Joker and his infamous sidekick/henchwoman/girlfriend, she shook her head.

"I've heard _of _her," Dawn said, almost instantly in reply to the shocked look on Megan's face. "I just don't know that much about her."

"Oh, child, then let me tell you!" Megan said, leaving behind the little bit of cleaning she was doing to move, conspiratorially, towards Dawn. Lowering her voice, she added, "Not that this is that big of a secret… I mean, _everyone_ in Gotham knows, but I don't think the doctors here like it mentioned much. You see, Quinn used to be a psychiatrist here."

Dawn had heard that. But, she feigned surprised and nodded for her fellow orderly to continue.

"She was looking, basically, for a get-rich-quick route. You know, write a tell-all book? So, who better than Gotham's own insane public enemy number one, the Joker? But… he knew how to get to her. That's how tricky he is, you know. She's not the first doctor he's gotten to in some way or another. But she is the first that has ever falling in _love_ with him."

Now Dawn was surprised. Everything that Megan had told her was _exactly_ what she had heard. She had always been skeptical of the story for more reasons than just the whole soap opera thing. In truth, she had just had trouble believing that any human… an honest to God _human_ could have that big of an effect on a fellow human being in such a short time—since the story Dawn had heard had taken place over a period of only six or so months. Months! Only months to break a woman's mind in half and rob her of her sanity and, frankly, her self-respect. Six months just couldn't be right. _That_ had to be the part that was fabricated.

"How long did it take him to, you know, trick her or whatever?" Dawn whispered, unable to help herself from glancing over her shoulder towards the door.

Megan shrugged. "Poor Miss Quinn… six months. Alisha here remembers it all. She's worked here for years, you know."

Dawn felt her body begin to shake. Was the Joker really that dangerous? Everyone and everything she encountered kept telling her so, but she had dealt with demons spit from the very mouth of Hell. Surely he couldn't be as bad as that… could he?

"You okay, chickie? I haven't scared you off, have I?" Megan asked, suddenly, her voice thick with concern.

Dawn blinked herself back into reality. Dangerous or not… a Summers girl did what a Summers girl had to do. Forcing a smile onto her face, she shook her head.

"Nah… just thinking. I mean, it's horrible, isn't it? I'm amazed Hollywood hasn't snatched this story up," she said, turning away to finish putting away the trunk of games.

Megan laughed. "You're telling me."

It took a little while after that for the two of them to finish cleaning the room… just enough time for Dawn to look up and see Alisha walking by. She turned, saying a quick good-bye to Megan, and caught up with the head orderly.

"Alisha, hey!" she said as the woman turned.

"Dawn, I was just looking for you. Sorry I was gone so long. Once I got done with the inmates, I was snatched up for several other somethings. Is the Rec Room clean?"

"Yeah, nothing left but the dusting that Megan was finishing up when I left."

Alisha nodded, glancing down at her watch. Shaking her head, she laughed.

"Where does the time go? You've only got about an hour left on shift tonight. I'm sorry I didn't get to show you more. We'll pick this up tomorrow, right? You're on schedule?"

Dawn blinked. "I'm not sure. I haven't picked it up yet… probably get that at the front desk, right?"

"Right."

"Okay. I'll make sure to grab it before I take off… which reminds me. Why don't I take a walk around the cells, make sure that everything is okay?"

She hadn't figured that her first night of work would leave her with much opportunity to get close to the Joker. After all, she knew that this whole "mission" was going to be a slower process than what she would have wanted it to be. But she had to snatch every chance she could, and this was one of them. Alisha beamed at her.

"Well, it's been years since we've had such a dedicated worker. Most of these people just want to work and dash. Really, I can't blame them. Every moment here is a moment of putting yourself in harm's way, I won't lie. So, go ahead and check… but be careful. I can't stress that enough."

"I'm just a big ol' caution sign," Dawn said, turning away from her boss and taking off up the hall.

She walked slowly past officers who nodded politely at her, trying her best to look like she gave a damn about the rest of the inmates. Of course, she wouldn't lie to herself. As she passed by the cells of some of the more famous inmates—Poison Ivy, Two-Face, and the Riddler, just to name a few—she spared a peek inside, curiosity getting the best of her. However, as the hall became emptier and emptier, she came upon the one cell she had sought.

She stopped in front of the giant glass wall and stared inside, much in the same way one might stare into a deadly animal's cage at the zoo. She lifted her hand, about to rest it on the glass, when she stopped. Thinking better of it, she lowered it, clenching it into a fist at her side.

That pane of glass was the only thing separating her from the sleeping figure of the Joker. Her sister's salvation. She watched as his chest rose and fell rhythmically, listening as he snored lightly—a ghoulish grin stretching his face even in sleep. She licked her lips quickly as a million crazy thoughts flew through her mind. The hall was empty. She could just break him out, and… And what? Just politely ask him for a vial of his blood in hopes that he would part with it out of gratitude? No. There was only one way to do this, and that wasn't it. She took a single step back as he stirred in his sleep. Glancing around, she saw that the hall was still empty, but that one of the non-famous criminals was staring a little too closely at her. She eyed the man before sighing.

She had time. Not a world of it… but more than she could have ever hoped for, given the situation. She would get what she need… just not tonight. Shaking her head, she turned and took off back the way she had come.

If she walked slowly enough, it would be time to clock out by the time she reached the front of the asylum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The previous chapter's title, "Almost Paradise," was based on the song of the same name by Ann Wilson and Mike Reno; it can be heard on the Footloose soundtrack.


	5. Telephone

Dawn threw back her head and sighed, her eyes trained on the dark and dismal ceiling of Arkham Asylum. She had two more days until she could consider her training period officially "over." But until then, she had been bounced from one orderly to the next, always ending up back with Alisha. However, at the present moment, they had decided—due to a rather busy schedule and a rather short staff—to let Dawn finish feeding the inmates by herself. Well, almost by herself. After all, it was protocol that all orderlies be accompanied by a guard when coming into any sort of close contact with an inmate.

As per protocol, the little, metal sliding door in the glass of the inmate's cell was opened by the inmate his or herself. Standing off to the side, nightstick at the ready, was the guard. Dawn had been instructed to stand no closer than a little over a foot from the door, set the tray on the floor, and slide it through with her foot. This was done to help lessen any chances that the inmates might have to injure the orderlies. After the food was through, the guard ordered the inmate to close the door, they did, and all went about their lives. However, this was not currently the case.

"Can't you answer my riddle, dear?" Edward Nygma AKA the Riddler, sans green suit, drawled.

Dawn swallowed down her annoyance. "Mr. Nygma, please just open your door and let me slide you your food. Aren't you hungry?"

"Ah, but you're new. And you look like a smart one. Give it a shot," he grinned, reclining back on his simple, wall-mounted bed.

Sighing again, Dawn turned to the guard accompanying her. "I thought he was over this?"

The young man shrugged. Dawn shook her head.

"Fine," she said as calmly as she could muster. "Could you repeat the riddle?"

Putting on his most arrogant airs, he cleared his throat and repeated, "You throw away the outside and cook the inside. Then you eat the outside and throw away the inside. What did you eat?"

Dawn nibbled at her bottom lip, thinking. She spared a moment's glance to her watch. She still had a few minutes until her shift was up this evening… but she was going to be getting overtime if she couldn't get Nygma to take his damn food! From behind the glass, Riddler smoothed back his red hair and chuckled.

"Oh come now, Miss Winters, I thought that you would have an _ear_ for this!"

Dawn blinked. Smiling, she crossed her arms and looked him dead in the eye.

"An ear of corn?" she ventured.

With a sharp, "Ha!" he slid off his bed and opened the door, quickly stepping back even as the guard ordered him to do so. Dawn put her toe out and pushed the tray beyond the glass. Riddler retrieved it and shut the door.

"Well played, Miss Winters, well played. But, you know, that riddle has another answer as well. Can you guess it? Just for fun?"

The guard, already on his way up the hall, paused and turned back, a brow raised. Dawn grinned. She remembered this riddle now. It was one that Joyce had shared at some random Summers dinner.

"Oh, I could. But I think I'll just _chicken_ out," she said.

This sent the man into peals of laughter, muttering every so often, "Excellent. Just excellent!"

"And, I'm outta here!" Dawn announced as she passed the guard, wishing him a good night.

She cleared her way with Alisha, who smiled and nodded, then proceeded to clock out. As she was descending the asylum's outside steps, reaching for her cell to call for a cab, she felt it vibrate. She didn't bother to check the ID, as only one person currently had her new number.

"Hey, Giles? How's Buffy? Nothing bad has happened, right?" she asked, pausing on the bottom step.

"She's fine. I'm actually calling just to check up on you. Nothing bad on your end, I hope? How was the apartment?" he asked, and Dawn could almost hear him remove his glasses and wipe his brow.

"The apartment was fantastic, Giles. I'm glad that Buffy's still doing okay. As for me, nothing bad has happened… but nothing good either. I'm almost at the end of my training period—even though my trainer says that you 'never really stop learning at Arkham,' and the closest I've been to the Joker was passing by his cell while he was asleep."

Giles breathed into the phone. "Well, time is on our side, thank God. Don't rush things. I'm sure you'll be in close enough contact to get what we need in no time. Just be careful, Dawn. I cannot stress this enough. Joker is dangerous… never forget it."

Dawn rolled her eyes. That seemed to be the theme of her whole week, "Joker is Dangerous." She huffed, moving to the left of the stairs and taking a seat.

"Giles, I mean, come on, haven't I heard that enough? That's all I've heard from the orderlies here too. I mean, I feel like I'm listening to a CD with a bad scratch. I've hung with vampires, slayers, and demons, Giles. Not to mention witches. Well, actually, I guess I did just mention them, but… whatever. I mean, no matter how dangerous this guy is to the common folk, he can't be that bad to one of us, can he?"

She had long ago hushed her voice, for fear of having someone overhearing her discussing the Joker like this. The last thing she needed was someone thinking she was another Harley Quinn case. Giles, on his end, sighed heavily. Dawn rolled her eyes again, knowing a lecture was coming. And, of course, she was right.

"Dawn, I don't deny that you do have a point. To one who's dealt with the things that go bump in the night, the Joker ought to be a piece of cake. But I've read a lot about him. As far as powers, he's got nothing but gimmicks. However, he's a criminal genius. And his most dangerous quality is his predictable unpredictability."

Dawn arched a brow. "Predictable unpredictability? Isn't that an oxymoron?"

Thank you, Freshman Comp I. Giles huffed out a tiny laugh.

"I suppose it is, but it doesn't make it any less true."

"Well, I don't get you, Giles. I mean, how is that his most dangerous quality?"

"Simply put: one knows the gimmicks he will use, and probably the method… but one might never know when he'll choose to strike. I once read an account where he kept tabs on a man for years, simply because he said the man owed him a favor. And I'm sure you have heard of, if not seen, Harley Quinn?"

"All right. I get your point. I'll be careful, trust me. But I've got to go. It's going to start looking pretty weird for me to just be hanging out here."

The two said their good-byes, and Dawn hung up, snapping her phone shut with a quick _click_. She sat on the step a moment or two longer, lost in thought, before she finally called for a cab.

#

A couple of days earlier, Dawn had visited upon her upstairs neighbor, Dick, to take him up on his offer of training. She had hoped that this hadn't been an empty promise, but he had happily greeted her and more than eagerly worked with her to work out a training schedule. Presently, after arriving home a little more than a half an hour later, she readied herself for their first scheduled session. She skipped the shower, seeing as it made more sense for her to take one after the sweaty karate session. She blushed a little when she thought of "sweaty" and Dick in the same thought, but quickly brushed it aside. Instead, she opted for a "whore's bath," just washing her visible skin after she had switched into her uniform and putting on a bit of body spray.

Buffy had always hated her using the term "whore's bath," but it just made Dawn giggle like a five-year-old. Finally pronouncing herself as ready, she made her way out of her apartment, up the hall and stairs, and to Dick's front door. With a couple of quick knocks, she was permitted entry.

She made her way into his dojo, smiling to herself. He called to her from an adjacent room, "I'll be in, in a sec, Dawn, okay? … This is Dawn that I just let in, right?"

Dawn laughed. "Yeah," she called back. Playfully, she added, "You know, it's not always such a hot idea to just invite people sight-unseen into your home. Trust me, learned that the hard way."

Stupid Harmony, she thought, staring at the simple décor on the walls. Moments later, Dick entered the room, and Dawn had to stop herself from gaping. He was shirtless! And she was trying hard not to stare. But it was oh, so difficult. He was rather muscular, but hadn't she already noticed this? His hair was pulled back once again, and he wore a small smile. He wore the bottom half of a Judogi that, judging by the bottom, was quite similar to Dawn's. Around his waist was a thick, black belt… but Dawn had to force her eyes upwards again.

She was in Gotham for a reason. She had a mission. Ogling a guy was not part of it. Her sister was dying. Of course… what harm could be done by just looking? Surely Buffy wouldn't blame her for looking… Hell, she might praise her for this one.

And she must've been staring pretty intently, because Dick's smile soon turned rather goofy, and Dawn's face began to grow very warm. Shrugging, he cleared his throat rather awkwardly.

"Sorry. I, um, hope this won't make you uncomfortable. I didn't have time to wash the top half of my gi, and I had a condiment-related incident with it earlier. My sensei was always admonishing me for eating in my uniform. The lesson never took, no matter how many exercises he made me do. What can I say? I love to eat."

Dawn thought she was going to die. It was a moment of tripping over her words before she was finally able to force out a laugh without it sounding squeaky. Dick laughed as well, and she was pretty sure it was at her, and not with her. He stepped forward—barefooted, of course—onto the large blue mat in the center of the room. He gestured for Dawn to join him, and she did so in an odd, jerky movement that was somewhere between "eager" and "hesitant." Hence, the jerkiness.

"Now," Dick said, his voice all seriousness, "you said that it had been a little while since your last practice. Would you just like a refresher? Work with different moves as stuff comes back to you?"

"Yeah, that's sounds perfect… uh, do I call you sensei?"

Dick looked like he was fighting the smile forming on his lips when he replied, "Nah. Let's just stick with Dick."

The evening progressed in just such a way. They went over various throws and holds, with Dawn quickly gaining her focus away from Dick's nude upper-half as move after move came back to her.

"So," Dick said, while holding her in a way that illustrated a shoulder throw, "how is everything?"

Dawn laughed. "Not bad. I was in San Francisco, so I know how to move in a big city… but Gotham's really like no other, you know?"

"Tell me about it," Dick said.

He finished the move by showing her how to get out of it, which she did, successfully. Laying on the mat, staring up at her, he smiled.

"Why don't we take a little break? Catch our breath?" he asked.

Dawn laughed. "Sure. What? Did I tire you out?"

He laughed hard at that, and she pouted. He stood, offered her a water—which she accepted, gratefully, and the two took a seat off to one side of the mat.

"So, neighbor, tell me something about yourself. Something you haven't told me yet," Dick said, swallowing a rather large mouthful of water.

Dawn sipped at hers thoughtfully. She had to be careful what she said here. She was sure that Dick wasn't really fishing for information; he was probably just being nice. But Giles—and apparently the entire staff of Arkham—kept warning her to be cautious, careful. So careful she was going to be.

"Well… I was in the Honors program both in high school and college," she said.

"Ah, thought you were a smart one."

Dawn's brow furrowed for a moment, thinking back to the Riddler saying almost exactly the same thing earlier. She quickly wiped the look from her face, before any questions could be asked. Smiling, she playfully nudged her trainer/neighbor.

"Okay, your turn. Tell me something I don't know about you."

"Alright. My favorite food is carrots. Don't ask me why… I just love them."

"So random!" Dawn laughed. "Okay, my turn? When I was twelve years old, I wasn't supposed to watch horror films. So, I snuck over to a friend's house one night, and had a total horrorfest. The bloodiest, goriest movies you could possibly think of… I slept with the light on for a month after that."

"Nice. Let's see… Well, I better tell you this before you find out through gossip. My parents died young, and I am… well, was a ward of Bruce Wayne."

Dawn's eyes widened. She hadn't expected family information to come out so soon. Her smile was wiped away, and she reached a tentative hand out towards him.

"I'm sorry… well, about your parents. But at least you avoided foster care… and with Bruce Wayne to boot!"

Dick's smile looked a little strained when he replied, "Don't worry about it. It was a long time ago, and justice was served. Thought I ought to mention it before our picture ends up in the _Gotham Gazette_."

Dawn's face blanched a little. A newspaper? She couldn't appear in a newspaper! Of course, it wasn't like the _Gotham Gazette_ was one Buffy read often. Dick arched a brow at her.

"Are you okay? Dawn?"

"Uh, yeah, sorry. I have… sort of stage fright. Was just thinking too hard on being in the paper," she replied… again, not a total lie.

Dick laughed. "I'm sorry. I'd tell you to disguise yourself, but that would only draw more attention. And I don't want you to feel like you have to hide. A lot of people in Gotham feel that way… it's not right, nor is it fair."

"No problem. I'll deal."

"So… tell me about your family."

For half a moment, Dawn almost concocted an elaborate lie. Well, not so elaborate. Just a lie. However, she stopped just moments before it spilled forth.

"My dad and I don't really talk anymore. He and my mom divorced when I was little. My sister was only like sixteen or something. My mom died of a brain aneurysm a couple of years before I started high school. She'd been sick for a little while. My sister raised me after that, with some great help from her friends. We're all like one big family."

"I'm sorry to hear about that. What's your sister's name?" Dick asked.

"Buffy," Dawn said, her voice going a little quiet. "We don't always get along… but she's kind of my world. I… I don't know what I'd do without her."

"It was nice of her to continue to raise you. I don't mean to sound crude, but for a lot of people your sister's age—I'm assuming—it might have been easier just to pawn you off on someone else."

Dawn gave a short laugh. "Yeah, well… Buffy's always been the responsible sort."

There was silence after that, with nothing but Dawn and Dick staring at one another. It seemed that neither knew what to say next, and that they hadn't really expected their conversation to get quite so serious. However, the familiar tune of Dick's phone sounded, and he all but leapt to his feet to answer it.

Glancing at the caller ID, he turned to her and said, "Excuse me. I have to take this."

Like the phone call before, it was over after a couple of "uh-huhs" and "yeahs." Clicking it shut, he turned, an apologetic grin on his face.

"Sorry about this, but I gotta run. I really did mean to get back to practice tonight."

Dawn pulled herself to her feet, shaking her head. "No problem. It's fine."

"Say, I know this isn't what we scheduled… but would you be free tomorrow night to pick up where we left off with the Judo?"

Dawn couldn't help but smile.

"Yeah. Definitely."

"Good. Well… it was good to have you over, Dawn. See you same time tomorrow."

"Right after work."

Dawn let herself out after that. She all but bounced down the staircase, a silly grin plastered on her face. Unlocking her apartment's door, she entered and raised a brow. Lighting up the sky through her window once again was the famous "Bat Signal." She shook her head.

"I guess Batman doesn't ever get a night off," she muttered, shutting the door behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The riddle was found off of a website, and had two possible answers… so I included both. Also, the title of last chapter was inspired by "Smile" by Lily Allen. I just get the feeling that this would be a song that the Joker would just love.


	6. Bleed It Out

"Get the double treat, that's so double sweet…" Dawn sang under her breath. Stopping halfway up a deserted hall in Arkham, she sighed, adding to herself, "Buffy hasn't worked, and I haven't been, to a Doublemeat Palace in years… So why can't I get that stupid jingle out of my head?"

Once again, she found herself on her usual late shift in Arkham… and completely bored. Half the inmates had been relocated to the Rec Room for their "free time," and the other half had already been fed and otherwise taken care of. Orderlies weren't allowed in the Rec Room, nor were they needed due to the surplus of cops, which meant double the orderlies to take care of half the jobs. Just barely halfway through her shift, she found herself longing for the end of tomorrow evening—her last night of work for the weekend.

Sighing, she continued her walk up the hall, noting that the few inmates that she passed were already fast asleep. Four more hours of work to go… and not a damn thing to do but to purposelessly wander the hallways. She couldn't even whistle, for fear of waking them up.

The other orderlies had told her that today would be boring… that it would be best for her to do a quick round and then come and hang out in the snack room until the "free time" was up, and they were needed for the transport of the inmates back to their cells. But she was restless. Being a member of the Scooby Gang had often kept her moving, so staying put in one place for too long—without a significant purpose other than killing time—drove her crazy. She giggled a little at that thought, figuring that if she was going to go crazy then she was in the right place.

She reached the end of the hall and let out another heavy sigh. Bored, bored, bored… her eyes were growing weary, despite the fact that she had gotten plenty of sleep. She needed to do something, and fast. Blinking, she glanced down the left hall—which would ultimately lead back to the snack room—and then turned and glanced down the right hall—which would lead to the Rec Room.

Dawn had been warned that today's batch of inmates in the Rec Room were the craziest of the craziest… hence, the most dangerous. Pursing her lips, she glanced once more down the left hall—to make sure no one was there to see her—then made a quick dash down the right hall. She wouldn't be allowed inside the Rec Room—again, too dangerous for a mere orderly—but would it hurt her just to peek inside?

Justifying it only to herself, she decided that it wouldn't. But, despite that fact, she all but doubled her walking speed. Just in case. She made sure she kept glancing at the cells she passed, so that she was still doing her job, but it was only a quick look. Finally, three cells away from the end of the hall—which would lead to the hall that was mostly the Rec Room—she slowed.

How suspicious would she look if she came speeding around the corner, claiming to just want a "peek" into the room? Taking a deep breath, she kept her speed in check.

Of course, all this was in hopes of catching another sight of the Joker. She knew he was one of the ones in the Rec Room tonight, and it _killed_ her to know that she was so close to getting what she needed from him… but so far away. But there was just no way. Not one single way that she could get a vial or two of his blood while he was sitting among cops and fellow inmates. No, she would have to get him alone…

A single cell from the end of the hall, she paused. Coming from around the corner—a bit muffled, so possibly from within the Rec Room itself—was a loud scuffling noise, followed quickly by shouts and the sounds of violently scraping furniture. Her eyes widened. There was a fight going on! Years of being the slayer's sister had attuned her ears to just such a noise. Losing no time, she rounded the corner… only to pause again.

Flying out of the Rec Room's door—literally, airborne—was the Joker himself. And he looked a little dazed, which wasn't helped by the fact that his body crashed into the wall across the way and slid down it. He was chuckling in a low, incoherent way that made Dawn gasp. Blood was spilling forth from cuts on his lip, cheek, and forehead.

"No," Dawn muttered, about to rush forward.

She couldn't afford this. She couldn't have him get hurt too badly. He was precious cargo to her. However, she paused, two steps into her rush, as another body burst through the door. However, this one did so of its own accord.

A tall, blond, burly police officer all but roared his way out of the Rec Room, his eyes ablaze… and locked on the Joker. His cap had been lost at some point and exposed his crew-cut hairstyle—which did nothing to soften his looks, and he was huffing. He stepped forward, his hand curled into a fist and reeling back. Dawn put her feet into motion again.

She stopped just in front of the crumpled Joker, deflecting the officer's punch. From the Rec Room, sounds of yells and more scuffling leaked out. It looked like Dawn was on her own for little bit. The officer screamed at her to move, but she didn't budge. He made another move to punch—her, presumably, as she completely blocked him off from the Joker—and she deflected it once again, this time following it up by a sucker punch right to the stomach.

"Back off, officer!" she yelled at him as he clutched his middle and stumbled off backwards.

Judo and good old-fashion fisticuffs—she would have to kill Xander later for putting this word in her head—was definitely paying off. She strengthened her stance a little, just as two other officers ran out from the Rec Room.

One ran to the attacker while the other went to Dawn.

"Are you all right? How does an orderly know how to do that?" the one approaching Dawn asked.

Finding that a bit offensive for some reason, Dawn huffed indignantly. "Ever heard of a self-defense class? What the hell was going on?"

She moved away from the officer, who rubbed the back of his head nervously, and knelt down beside the Joker. Absentmindedly she checked his pulse, following the back of this head. Pulse was fine, and no concussion. Really, he was just dazed as his green eyes, which were a bit cloudy, gazed up at nothing. His incoherent chuckling continued. He barely seemed aware that anyone was around him. Meanwhile, the other officer had restrained the attacking officer and had gone back into the Rec Room.

"He said something to Joey," Dawn's officer said, jerking a thumb back towards Blond Crew Cut. "I don't know what it was, but it pissed him off. We didn't even see it coming. All of a sudden he just started to wail on Joker. Sorry that it took us so long to get out here… the other inmates were taking this moment to their advantage. We got them calm now."

Dawn opened her mouth to reply, but stopped as she saw Alisha running up the hall towards them. Her green eyes wide, she quickly glanced between Joker—still dazed—Dawn, and the officer. Finally, she whirled on the officer.

"What happened? Somebody said that a fight was going on," Alisha demanded in all the tones that a boss might use.

The officer sighed, and began to repeat his story. When he had finished, Alisha was shaking her head.

"He'll be reprimanded, of course?" she asked, motioning towards Joey.

"Yes."

Sighing, the Head Orderly said, "Fine. Then let's just go ahead and move all of them back into their cells."

"Um," Dawn said, causing both the officer's and Alisha's attention to turn towards her, "he's still pretty hurt. I think I ought to take him to the doctor."

Alisha's brow furrowed. "I don't know…"

"He's pretty out of it," Dawn assured her. "I think I can get him to walk, but that's about it."

Dawn knew an opportunity when she saw one. Any time alone with the Joker that she could gain would greatly help. Plus, he really _did_ need some medical attention. Inside the Rec Room, the inmates' voices were rising again. Alisha huffed.

"I guess it's the only option we've got, though I'd hate to send a new orderly off on their own with this guy. Do you know where the infirmary is?"

"Yeah," Dawn said, jumping up and pulling the Joker, gently, up with her. "I was shown."

Now wagging a finger at her, her boss turned on her firm voice again. "You take him directly there, you understand? I'll page Dr. Bartholomew."

"Yes, Ma'am," Dawn said.

And she was off. It was a slow go, since Joker had yet to regain control of his consciousness. But, one step at a time, with the evil clown still chuckling dazedly, she finally made it to the infirmary. And a little voice in the back her head said, "Ha. He can't be _too_ dangerous if he can just randomly get his ass kicked by cops… and if I can get him here by myself."

Just as Dawn opened the door to the infirmary, Joker groaned. With an arched brow, he looked down at her—as he stood at least a head and a half taller than she did.

"My, my. I zonk out for just a few minutes, and the loverly doctors send me off with a pretty girl. I really must do this more often, ha!"

Dawn's eyes narrowed as she all but shoved him inside and onto the table. He giggled manically.

"And so forward. Please, miss, never on a first date!"

"I think it's pushing people's buttons that got you in this position in the first place," Dawn murmured, eyeing, rather pointedly, all the cuts and blood on him.

The clown let out a low growl, but cut it short as Doctor Bartholomew entered the room. Dawn couldn't help but smile at the doctor. He was a short old man, beginning to grow a little hunched, but still looked like he was plenty strong to do what this job required of him. He was mostly bald, the little bit of hair he had left was in gray wisps, and his glasses were thick and black rimmed.

"Well, well. When I had heard that an inmate was beaten up in the Rec Room, I knew immediately it had to be you, Joker. Why am I not surprised?" he said, beginning to pull out the various medical supplies he would need.

Joker waved his hand once, downward, and said, "Ah, Barty, it's because you know lil' ol' me so well."

Bartholomew shook his head and pulled up a stool. Then, he looked over at Dawn as if he had just noticed she was there.

"Ah, new orderly?" he said, adjusting his glasses.

"Yes. Dawn Winters, Doctor," Dawn said.

She moved to put out her hand for him to shake, but stopped as he smiled and put his back to her.

"Nice to meet you. So young to be working in a place like this. Stick around, though, won't you? I'll need your assistance getting him back to his cell."

"Yes, sir."

"Well, isn't she a polite one?" Joker laughed as Bartholomew began to clean the blood away from his wounds—after all, Joker had mostly stopped bleeding now.

"He didn't have a concussion, if you want to know," Dawn offered.

"Hmm. How do you know what to look for?" the doctor asked.

Dawn huffed. Why did everyone assume she couldn't do anything? Story of her life.

"I had some first aid in high school and in college," she said flatly.

The doctor barely grunted a response back at her. Instead, he crossed his arms, staring at the Clown Prince.

"You know the procedure, Joker. Since we have people of so many… _talents_ living here, every time there is bloodshed, we have to do a blood test. Roll up your left sleeve," the doctor instructed.

Joker groaned, giggled, but did as he was told. Dawn's eyes widened as Bartholomew tied the little rubber rope above the bend in Joker's arm and readied the needle. Moments later, her eyes were locked on the little vial as it filled with the crimson stuff.

She was feet away. Only feet! But there was just no way she could get the vial. She was so far away from the nearest exit—that she knew of—that any and all thoughts of a grab-and-run were pointless. Plus, she needed two. But she watched as the vial, now filled with the Joker's precious blood, was set aside for testing. Her sister's cure was just beyond her arm's reach… and there was nothing she could do.

It took a few minutes before Dawn realized that her eyes weren't the only ones locked on something. Turning, she found that both Bartholomew and the Joker had brows arched at her. She felt her face start to warm. When a perfectly sane doctor and a homicidal maniac both look at you with the exact same look at the exact same time… it's time to stop whatever the hell it is that's causing the look.

"Um, is something wrong, Miss Winters?" Bartholomew asked.

"I… uh… have a little problem with blood… lots of it, that is. Takes a lot, I mean, to freak me out," she said.

"Very well, then," Bartholomew said, shaking his head and pulling the Joker's sleeve down. "I'm done here. Let's get him back to his cell."

##

Dawn made it through the rest of her shift, with only an hour left to go, with no further incident. In her mind whirled thoughts of that little vial of the Joker's blood, and how she had been just so _damn_ close. And the mental torture was not over yet. On her little cart she had only one tray of food left… and Joker was the last inmate on her route.

The guard assigned to follow her this evening took up his usual post on the right side of the door to Joker's cell, after having snapped himself out of his own personal little "zone." Joker, looking quite recovered from his little scuffle, was leaning against the wall closest to the glass of the cell.

"Stay back," the guard said lazily, and Joker chuckled.

Dawn stared at the guard. "I thought he was supposed to open the door?"

The guard shook his head. "For Joker, it's better this way."

Joker tugged down his plain, gray-white shirt and turned his ruby smile to her.

"They don't trust me, little one," he said. Then, blinking, his grin widened. "Say… aren't you the little dear-heart that helped me to the infirmary when I got my whoopin'?"

"Yeah," Dawn answered shortly, opening the door and sliding in the tray as quickly as possible.

She slammed the little door shut, standing erect once more. The Joker let out a long, hard laugh. When he finally caught his breath, he shook his head.

"What's wrong? Scared of clowns?"

Dawn crossed her arms. "No. But I've heard a lot about you. And none of it good."

"Not even from Harley?"

Dawn rolled her eyes. "She doesn't count!"

Joker laughed again.

"You know, I never did get to thank you."

His voice had changed, taken on a tone that Dawn had never heard of him using before. It was darker, silkier, and she didn't like it. He moved from his place on the wall and pressed his gloved hands up against the glass, moving his face as close as he could as well without pressing his nose up against it too. Dawn, involuntarily, took a step back. Then, chiding herself, she retook her step forward.

He was not a vampire, a demon, or any other type of bogeyman. He was just a human. But… he did creep her out in a major way. Again, of course, he laughed at her.

"You're a strange one, Dawn."

"So are you. Why would you remember my name?" she asked.

He shrugged, stepping back. She chose not to speak again, waiting for some sort of response. But, when she realized that he was just toying with her, she scoffed. Grabbing the cart rather roughly, she turned it around and began to walk off. She was just passing the end of his glass wall when he said, "Hey… has anyone ever told you that you glow, chickadee?"

She turned, gave a sarcastic little grin, and said, "Flattery will get you nowhere, Joker."

She flipped her hair as she turned back around, and the guard—who was leaving to continue with his own rounds—seemed to find that funny, chuckling as he walked away.

Dawn was nearly three feet away from Joker's cell when he shouted his next words.

"Who's flattering? You glow. A faint green color, at that."

She froze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter's song title was from Lady Gaga's "Telephone."


	7. Let Me Go

"No, Buffy, I don't think that's it," Xander said, scratching the back of his head as he stared down at his dying friend.

Buffy had yet to be released from the castle's infirmary, and it was making her increasingly edgy. But they all knew why. Despite the fact that she still had months ahead of her, the Wiccans, slayers, and Wiccan-slayers that ran the infirmary had taken it upon themselves to monitor her condition.

Xander cast a worried glance over Buffy's head to the other side of the hospital bed where Willow stood. Buffy's brow narrowed.

"What was that? I'm right, aren't I? Dawn's not in the castle anymore. That's why she hasn't come to see me."

"Buffy, we, uh, just didn't want your feelings to get hurt," Willow said, her soft voice easing the Chosen One a tad.

"According to Giles, Dawn just needs some time to herself. She's staying in the inn in the village. It was all just… a lot, you know, Buff?" Xander explained like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Buffy frowned and nodded. "I know. But, I guess I just want my family with me. I mean, all of you."

She smiled up at her two dearest friends, and they both smiled back. After a moment, she nodded once, decisively.

"She needs time. You're right. I mean, it's hard… me dying again… for real this time. You guys are right. Let her have her space… she'll come back. But—"

Willow nodded sagely. "We'll keep an eye on her. You sleep."

Buffy settled back on her pillows, albeit a little reluctantly, as Xander and Willow made their way out of the room. The two were halfway up the corridor when Xander grabbed his Wiccan friend's arm and drug her off into the shadows.

"Xander! What the hell—?" she asked.

Turning his head left and right, Xander ensured that no one was coming. Finally, he focused his single eye on her and set his jaw.

"You know that story Giles fed us was crap, right?" he asked.

Willow nodded, closing her eyes and sighing. "Yeah, I know."

"Yeah, well, I bet, then, that you also know what I know."

"We don't know that for sure!"

"We might as well know it for sure."

"Xander, can we stop saying 'know'?"

Willow now glanced over both her shoulders before turning back her to him. He nodded and crossed his arms across his black-clad chest.

"Dawn's in Gotham."

"You think she went after the Joker, don't you?"

Xander scoffed. "Your sister, the one blood member of your family you've been able to count on since your mother passed away, is dying. There's a cure that nobody will go after. What would _you_ do, Will?"

Behind them, a pair of slayers-in-training passed by, talking and laughing as if they were walking through the halls of a high school, gossiping about boys from their home town. Neither of the two young girls seemed to notice them in the shadows. As soon as they had gone, Willow sighed. Biting her lip lightly, she groaned.

"I bet that's why I couldn't find her… you know, mystically. I tried to track her any way I knew how. Then I tried her ways that I had to learn. Nothing. Dawnie's totally off the radar. If Giles is helping her go after the Joker… that would explain everything."

Xander's brow furrowed as he leaned back against a darkened wall. "You think Giles has done something to keep her deliberately hidden?"

Willow nodded. "Did something or is doing something. There's nothing else I can think of that would keep her hidden from me like that."

Xander lowered his eye and nodded. For a long moment, neither of the two said anything further on the matter, and neither would look each other in the face. They knew that there was one issue that had yet to be addressed… and finally, it was Xander that voiced it.

"Okay. So… do we tell Buffy?"

Willow's eyes bored down into the castle's stone floor.

"We should… shouldn't we?"

Xander did not answer at first, turning instead to look down the corridor.

"Why?"

Now Willow's eyes shot to her friend. She took a single step forward and shook her head.

"Xander! I can think of several, very good reasons why we should tell Buffy that her _sister_ has gone after a _deranged_ criminal!"

"But I can think of one better why we shouldn't. Buffy wouldn't have bought that stupid village lie if it had been one of us… Dawn's the only one that can get that cure without Buffy knowing. She's the only chance we've got right now to save her. The rest of us… we're too _needed_ to get out and away, but Dawn's already been out and away. And is out and away. All we have to do is help cover for her."

"Xander!" Willow hissed. "You don't understand! The fact that Dawn's doing this by herself is just problem one. Problem two comes along with the fact that everyone in that asylum that she's got to go into to get the Joker is grade-A crazy."

"So?" Xander said, sounding genuinely confused.

"So? Xander, Dawn's the key. Glory or no… trying to put her in an inter-dimensional lock or no, she's still the physical manifestation of the key. Her source has only diminished, not disappeared. Don't you remember what we found out about crazy people and the key?"

Xander's eye widened. "You think they could… see her?"

Willow backed off and put her face in her hands. "I don't know. And I'm not sure what would happen if they could."

"But, Will… as big as that problem would be, if she could get some of Joker's blood for Buffy…"

"I know."

"I'm just saying… let's give it a chance."

It was another one of those long moments, followed by a long sigh before Willow finally nodded.

"Fine. We'll cover for her. But for two weeks, and two weeks only. If we don't hear anything after that—"

"I totally agree," Xander said.

He held out his hand and paused, a big smile cracking his face.

"We don't need to shake on it, Xander," Willow laughed. "Now let's get out of this dark corner. They're already writing erotic friend fiction about us."

Xander laughed and threw an arm around her, dragging her out into the light of the corridor. Willow leaned in on him, laughing herself, as they made their way to their daily slayer-related duties… passing as they went the two slayers that had walked by earlier. The two girls were now huddled together and whispering like mad.

This only made the two old Scoobies laugh harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter title was inspired by "Bleed It Out" by Linkin Park. Also, I updated a line from the end. I didn't like the way it read, years later.


	8. See Who I Am

It seemed to Dawn that to have such a lavishly furnished apartment, she spent so little time in it. In fact, most of her time was spent at Arkham, and even when she did have an off night, she was often up in Dick's apartment, working on her Judo. It was like the sole purpose to her apartment was only so she could have a place to sleep… but she had not done much of that recently either. Not since the Joker's little comment.

It unnerved her, to be honest. She had spent the rest of that night, after Joker's too-keen observation, with her arms about herself, like she was constantly cold, and her eyes darting from cell to cell, like she expected all of the inmates to suddenly start pointing and screaming at her. The other orderlies had been concerned for her, asking if any of the inmates had harmed her. She assured them that this had not been the case, that she was just feeling a little under the weather. Alisha had even sent her home an hour earlier, saying that she just could not bear to see the girl looking so "uncomfortable" anymore.

The little revelation was affecting her more than she would have liked. There was not a moment that passed when the Joker's voice, saying those simple little words, did not echo through her head.

"_You glow. A faint green color, at that_."

She had just assumed, after the lack of encounters with crazy people after Glory, that, when the Hell God had died, that her "keyness" had died off with her, leaving only Dawn Summers—the vessel, as Willow had described her physical form once—behind. And, the night after talking with the Joker, Dawn had been ready to cling to this thought. That was until curiosity got the better of her. She had had to make rounds that night to several different inmates—some more infamous than others—like she did most of her work nights for dinner, and she had decided to take advantage of it. Her first stop had been Poison Ivy—the only vegetarian diet in the asylum.

She had followed protocol concerning serving them, but when the guard had began to move on, she had leaned into the glass.

"Miss Ivy?" she had whispered.

The plant woman's vibrant red hair bounced as she smirked up at her from her seat on the bed, her greenish skin an almost sickly color underneath the florescent lights. But even with the poor lighting, Dawn could not deny the beauty that she was renowned for.

"What do you see when you look at me?"

She had only been halfway through her question before Ivy's eyes had widened. She slid, like a cat slinking off a chair, off of her bed, pressing a hand flat against the asylum glass.

"What are you?" she whispered, almost reverently.

Dawn blinked. That question had simply made her sick. Pursing her lips, she repeated her question, more firmly.

"What do you see when you look at me?"

"Green," Ivy whispered. "Power… pure power. Are you connected to the plants as well? Are you one of my kind?"

Dawn had only sighed, pushing her tray cart—and herself—away. She continued her experiment with every other inmate she fed. And every one… every single one… could _see_ her. See the Key in her. The rest of her night had gone pretty much like the one with before had, save for being sent home an hour early—she had refused it.

She had to shake this. And she had to find out what it all meant. Both were easier said than done. Her mission here was to save her sister, like Buffy had done so often for her. But she could not focus. Not after this.

"_What are you?_"

Good question. Two days later, her only off night that week, she was back in Dick's apartment, getting better and better at her Judo—but still not good enough to pin her trainer. She dodged a high kick, striking out with a low one to sweep him off his feet. He jumped it, back-flipping—_actually_ back-flipping—to regain his advantage. She blinked, caught off guard by the obviously advanced move. How long would it take her to get _that_ agile?

She had still not shook herself from the small surprise when he came at her again, easily pinning her. Shirtless—as he usually preferred to practice—and leaning down over her, his long ponytail tickling her left ear lightly, Dawn found herself fighting hard against a deep blush. He narrowed his eyes at her, confusion all over the young man's face.

"What's up, Dawn?" he said, letting her out of his pin to sit back, cross-legged, on the mat.

Dawn propped herself up on her elbows. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. You just seem… out of it. Did something happen?"

She pulled herself up to sit cross-legged as well. With a heavy sigh, she rubbed her shoulder, eyes adverted. Dick was so easy to talk to, and she had no idea why this was. But no matter how easy, she could not very well tell him _exactly_ what was wrong.

_Oh, an inmate—the Joker, as a matter of fact—mentioned that I "glow" the other day. You see, I used to be the human form for a mystical, inter-dimensional Key. Or, at least I thought "used to" was the case. Nope, turns out that it didn't go away after my sister—a vampire slayer—killed the Hell God that wanted to use me to get home._

Yeah… that didn't sound crazy in the least. Dawn sighed, shaking her head.

"Something was said at work the other night," she began, trying to keep it as vague as possible. "Nothing really bad… just confusing. It's kind of kept me off guard since then."

Dick's eyes narrowed. "What was said?"

Dawn blinked, eyes wide. Then, looking away once more, she muttered, "I'd rather not say."

Dick held up a dismissive hand. "I understand. So… why is it bothering you?"

She did not answer immediately. After all, without the specifics, it was pretty damn hard to describe how she felt. Dick seemed to understand, putting no rush on her to explain. And it was a long moment before she felt confident that she could.

"This thing that was said… was a big part of my life a long time ago. And back then, when I was first learning of it, it was kind of a bad surprise. It really messed me up. And—"

She froze, trying to consider her next statement. After all, she was not sure how much she wanted him to know of her just yet… well, what she wanted him to know that was _true_.

"And?" Dick asked.

She blushed, the gentleness in his question making the small truth that she was considering withholding slip right out.

"The night I found out about this… thing, I slit my wrists," she said, looking away.

Her whole face was burning, embarrassed. She could not look at him as she continued.

"I'm not proud of it. It was a bad call, without a doubt. I ended up in the hospital that night, and then wearing bandages on my wrists for a little while until the cuts healed. My mother died not too long after that, and it bothers me—" She paused here, her throat tight as she fought tears. "It bothers me that that was one of the last memories that she might have had of me before she died."

Her face was still determinedly turned away from Dick. What must he think of her? What must he think of a person that would do that to themselves? But she felt his hand reach out, coming to rest on hers. She gasped, a single tear rolling free, as she looked at him.

There was no judgment in his eyes. Only worry and concern for her. She smiled, sighing.

"I'm sure your mother thought nothing bad of it, Dawn. But, this thing that was said… do you still feel this way about it?" he asked softly.

She shook her head. "No. No. I've come to terms with it. And, like I said, I thought it was out of my life. But, evidently, it's not. I just worry that… that it means that something bad could happen. Um, that last part is sort of difficult to explain, but this thing could honestly mean the coming of very bad stuff. And I don't know what to do, if that becomes the case."

Dick leaned back, seemingly lost in thought. He crossed his arms over his still-bare chest and sighed. Finally, he only shrugged.

"You know what? Sometimes, Dawn, we can only burn the bridges as we come to them. There's no point in worrying over a future that no one can possibly predict. I know that none of that is much comfort, but it's true."

Dawn mulled his words over, her eyes cast downward. Finally, she grinned, standing.

"You're right. It's just… when bad stuff happens to me, to my family, it tends to be major-league _bad_. Gets a person worrying, you know? But you're right. You are. But…"

Dick stood, eyes narrowed. "But what?"

She shrugged. "I just wish I knew what it meant, this thing coming back to bite me in the ass."

He laughed, and she joined in. Taking the smallest of steps forth, he sighed, resting a soft, tentative hand on her shoulder. Her eyes widened, just for a moment, before she looked up at him.

"In all seriousness, Dawn," he said, quietly, "if you ever need anything—and I mean _anything_—come to me. I'd hate to see anything happen—"

He stopped, glancing away. Dawn blinked. A moment passed. Then another. Finally, his gaze came back to her, their eyes meeting. The awkwardness that had built in those few moments melted away, and both began to lean toward one another. Dawn was slowly getting to her tiptoes, their lips growing ever nearer…

And, only inches away, Dick paused, his eyes going to the door of his loft just as a soft cough broke the moment.

"Barbara," he said as Dawn whirled, sure that she had successfully "hair smacked" him.

A young woman, roughly the same age as Dick, stood in the doorway. Her bright red hair was loose, hanging just past her bare shoulders, and the black dress she wore was short and un-ornamented. Her lips were painted a dark red, almost black, and they parted in an unreadable grin.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," she said.

Dawn blinked, feeling her face flush. Dick sighed, stepping out from behind her.

"What's up?" he asked.

Barbara—as Dick had addressed her—cocked her head to the right, her eyes still glued to Dawn.

"Not going to introduce her? How rude," she said, stepping forward and sticking out a pale hand. "Barbara Gordon. Pleased to meet you."

Dawn shook her hand, trying desperately not to look like she had gotten her hand caught in the cookie jar before dinner time.

"Dawn. Dawn Winters. And, I'm so sorry, but I have to run. Gotta get some sleep. Work tomorrow, and all that," she said, breaking the greeting and backing toward the apartment door, grabbing her shoes as she went. "Bye."

"Bye," she heard Dick say, his voice more of a question than a statement as she bolted from the loft.

Back in her own apartment on the floor below, she threw herself onto her bed and grabbed a pillow. Shoving it to her face, she screamed. When she could no longer breathe, she tossed it behind her head, and rolled to her side, staring out the window at the night sky.

A girlfriend. Dick had a girlfriend. And the two of them had almost… How stupid could she be? And why the hell did all her boyfriend choices have to be bad? Seriously? Even Buffy, when she dated the wrong type of guy—i.e. vampire—they were still available and not wanting to kill her.

Well, not while they were dating, at least.

Dick was probably being raked over the coals, she thought, scooting up to rest her head on her pillows. It served him right.

Without even bothering to change into her pajamas, she pulled herself under the blankets. Sometimes it was better just to sleep the rest of a day away.

##

She just could not handle it anymore. The confusion, the worrying, the wondering, none of it. So, as soon as Dawn had caught up on all her duties that following night at Arkham, she made a beeline for the inmate's cell who had started all of her troubles—and was continuing to be a source of them. The Joker.

It was late, so most were asleep behind their walls of glass, but Dawn was pleased to see that Joker lay awake, stretched out on his cot, reading. Out of sheer morbid curiosity, she leaned down, trying to catch the title of the book. But he spotted her too quickly, shutting it with a snap and sliding it out of sight. His smile growing even wider, he leapt to his feet, running the few steps it took to get to the glass.

"Goody, goody! A visitor! You'd be surprised how few of those I get," he said, a laugh following this statement.

Dawn crossed her arms, glancing both ways before replying, "I somehow doubt that."

The hall around her was empty, and the surrounding cells were filled with nothing but snoring inmates. Joker's permanent smile was sly now as he mimicked her earlier glance before leaning so close that his breath fogged the glass.

"Ooh, a clandestine meeting in the dead of night… you better be careful, kiddo. Harley's the jealous type," he whispered, his voice taking on that deeper, silkier tone again.

Dawn shuddered, and his grin widened once more. Her face stony, she locked eyes with the madman.

"I wanna know," she said.

His brow arched. "Want to know what? The secret to my good looks, to my witty personality? I'm afraid I can't reveal those little tidbits to you, unless…"

His eyes drifted to the cell's door. Dawn rolled her eyes, taking a single step forward.

"I know how you got your 'good looks,' and as for your personality, I'd be willing to guess that you've been that sadistic your entire life," Dawn hissed.

Joker laughed. "Oooh, down, kitty."

"What I want to know," she said, ignoring him, "is what _exactly _it is you see when you look at me."

He pressed a gloved hand to the glass, the look in his eye hungry.

"You know," he whispered, intrigued.

"Tell me."

"I've already told you, Dawn."

It bothered her, him using her name, and she shuddered again.

"I need details. Is it bright? What does the glow look like? Is it coming from my skin?"

Joker leaned back, crossing his arms as he huffed out a tiny laugh.

"I'll make you a deal. I'll tell you what I see when I look at you… and you'll tell me what it means. Got it?"

"Deal. You first," she said.

He leaned forward again, his eyes almost twinkling, but dark.

"It's bright and shiny, like a new penny, but green, like Pam's precious plants. And it's not coming from your skin… it's more like, around you."

"Around me? Like an aura?"

Joker snapped his fingers, nodding. "Yeah. Just like that."

"That's it? That's all you see?"

"Right on the money. Now… you tell me why I see it, toots."

Dawn swallowed hard, drinking in the information. She looked away from the clown, her eyes unfocused. Joker growled, slamming the side of his fist into the glass.

"Answer me! What are you?"

She really wished people would stop asking her that. Turning her attention back to him, she shrugged.

"You're seeing things. I've got work to do."

"No! We had a deal! Come back here! Come back here, or I'll wring your little neck!" he screamed as she strode off up the hall.

And it was a testament to how often screaming occurred in the asylum that none of the surrounding inmates even fidgeted in their sleep as he raged on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter's title was inspired by 3 Doors Down's song, "Let Me Go."


	9. Little Lies

Her shift could not have ended sooner. She had almost forgotten to clock out in her hurry to leave the asylum. They had had to sedate the Joker to get him to stop screaming… about her.

Of course, no one but Dawn knew what it was that maniac had been yelling his lungs out about. Now, with her arms hugged tightly about herself, she tore down the stone steps of Arkham, stopping at the very last one. She simply stood there, knowing that she should call for a cab, but she just could not summon the strength to reach for her phone. Instead, she just continued to stand there, staring blankly out at the darkened parking lot.

She just pissed off one of the most dangerous criminals that this place held. That had been dumb. _So_ dumb. With a hard swallow, she finally wiggled her hand into her purse, withdrawing the silver phone. But Gotham's taxi services was not the call she made.

It rang twice on the other end before, finally, Giles answered with a curt, "Hello?"

"Giles!" she all but yelled into the phone. Taking a second to calm her voice, she tried again, "I have something to tell you, like majorly huge something!"

"Oh, right, yes. That's correct. Yes, I was indeed expecting your call," he said, his voice tight and forcing the business-like tone from it.

Dawn narrowed her eyes, gazing sideways at the cellular in her hand.

"What? Giles, it's me," she said.

"Oh, yes, I'm quite aware of that. I'm actually here working on the problem with Willow and Xander," he said, and Dawn could almost imagine the librarian turning in the direction of her sister's two best friends as he put the slight emphasis on their names.

Eyes wide, Dawn muttered, "Oh. Right. They're in the room with you."

"Yes, but I've still made no progress," he said.

Dawn huffed, rolling her eyes. To have been a Watcher, in charge of training the slayer and keeping her identity a secret from the world, Giles would never make it as a spy. She shook her head, her ponytail sweeping her back as she did so.

"I gotcha. I'll try back later," she said.

"Very well. Oh, but didn't you just say that this call could not be missed?"

It took a minute before she realized what he was _really_ asking. With a laugh, she shook her head.

"No, it's fine. I mean, I know I said it was majorly important, but it's not like I-solved-world-hunger important."

Or I-got-the-cure important, she thought.

"Right. Then I look forward to your call again. Take care," Giles said just before the line disconnected.

Dawn stared at her phone's screen as it flashed the time that the call had taken up. She glanced back up at the foreboding asylum and sighed. Going to her contacts, she dialed the number for the taxi service.

"I've got to get the hell away from here," she murmured to no one.

##

Giles snapped his phone shut, turning back to Willow and Xander, who stood shoulder-to-shoulder before him. If he didn't know better, from the looks on their faces, he would have thought that this was some sort of intervention. He slipped the phone into his pocket and sighed.

"Sorry about that. Very important call from one of ours. In fact, I was just about to bring up that I needed a hand with some research," he said, straightening his glasses.

Willow rolled her eyes while Xander huffed.

"We know who that was, Giles," the witch said, crossing her arms.

He raised a brow. "Oh?"

Xander took a step forward, shaking his head.

"It was Dawn, Giles. We know that she's in Gotham. And we know that you helped her get there. I mean, honestly, man, how long do you think that we were going to fall for that whole 'she's in the village' story?"

The Watcher shifted in his seat, crossing his arms. He allowed his eyes to slip back and forth between the two before he finally shrugged.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Both groaned.

"Giles! Give us a little bit of credit here. You know that we're not that dumb. She's in Gotham, trying to get the Joker's blood, and you got her there. Without any of us noticing, and now I can't find her," Willow said, striding forth to stand just before him. Bending down, she tilted her head just so slightly to the left, adding, "What spell did you use? What spell did you use that I couldn't possibly find her? I can't even find her source. She's in danger, Giles, and don't tell me that you haven't thought of it, the one thing that could be a big problem with her."

In a moment of weakness, Giles allowed his gaze to slip guiltily to the side as something seemed to click within him. But it was only a moment. Clearing his throat, he stood, forcing Willow back to her feet.

"I honestly have no idea what you mean. Is Dawn not in the village? And you can't find her?"

His heart was not really in faking the sincerity in his voice. Xander and Willow knew, and there was no way around it. But he wasn't going down without a fight.

He watched as the two exchanged a glance again. Finally, Xander nodded.

"All right, Giles. You _don't know_ where she's at. We get it. We'll leave you alone," he said, turning and opening the room's door.

Giles fought hard against the relieved sigh rising in his chest. Halfway out into the hall, Willow stopped, turning to glance over her shoulder at him.

"I know you're pretending that you have a lack of involvement in this, but… we weren't going after her. Not yet, anyhow."

Giles's firm stance softened as he narrowed his gaze at the young woman. Willow smiled a little coyly at him.

"But, despite the danger… thanks. You did what we, apparently, couldn't. She has two weeks, Giles, and then I go to Gotham after her."

With a half smile of his own, he shook his head.

"I still have no idea what you're talking about, Willow."

Chuckling as she left, she muttered, "Yeah, I know," just before shutting the door.

##

The elevator dinged as the doors slid open, awakening Dawn from her thoughts. With a heavy sigh, she shoved her hand into her purse, digging for her damned keys, as she stepped into the hallway. Her purse so held her attention that she did not even notice Dick standing by her door until she was right in front of him.

She blinked as he smiled at her, doing that nervous head scratch that he was so inclined to.

"Stalker much?" she said, grinning at him.

He _blushed_. He actually _blushed_. Looking more embarrassed than Dawn had ever seen anyone look, he cast his eyes toward the carpeted floor, and suddenly she was feeling a bit embarrassed herself.

"I'm only kidding!" she said.

He chuckled and said, "I knew that. I did."

She shook her head, slipping the key into the door's lock.

"Though, I don't think that your girlfriend would like you hanging outside some other girl's door," she said, turning it and the knob, letting herself inside.

She invited him in as an afterthought, and he almost tiptoed inside, shutting the door quietly behind. She tossed her purse and keys onto the breakfast bar and turned, surprised to find the confused look on his face.

"Girlfriend?" he asked, sounding genuine.

Dawn slowly nodded.

"The girl who showed up last night in your apartment," she said just as slowly, as if explaining something new to a five-year-old.

He blinked once, face completely blank. Finally, the proverbial lightbulb switched on and he said, "Oh!"

"There it is," Dawn laughed, taking a seat on her fluffy couch.

"You're talking about Barbara! Oh, Babs isn't my girlfriend… well, honestly, we _used_ to date."

"Ex-girlfriend. Even better," Dawn said, curling her feet underneath her.

Dick laughed. "No, no, it's not like that. We're just friends now. I mean, that's a _big_ used to, honest. Actually… we sort of work together. Sort of. But we're not dating, really."

Dawn leaned forward without thinking about it. "Really?"

Dick strolled into the living room, taking a seat in the recliner just off to the side of the couch.

"Yeah. Wait. Is… is that why you bolted last night?"

Now it was Dawn's turn to blush. She shrugged, unable to meet his eyes.

"Well, um, I just thought that, maybe, she wouldn't have liked me, you know… being there," she stumbled through.

Dick laughed. "Really? Well, I can assure you that that isn't the case. But, to make up for the confusion, how about, if you're feeling up to it, we go pick up where we left off with your training session?"

The offer was tempting, more tempting that she probably would have cared to admit. In fact, sitting in the living room with Dick had almost made her forget the events of the evening. Then, it all came screaming back to her. She could hear the anger and rage in the Joker's voice in her head as he threatened to wring her neck. She crossed her arms low about her stomach, squeezing lightly, as if that would make it all go away.

"Honestly, I'm not feeling too great right now," she said.

"Oh," Dick said, hurt clear on his face.

Dawn's eyes widened. "No! I mean, I'm not trying to avoid you or anything. I just… I had a bad night at work, and I'd really just like to sleep right now."

He seemed to brighten, just a little, at that. But a moment later, another shadow fell across his face.

"Are you all right?"

She smiled, "Yeah, really. Just one of those nights."

Dick laughed. "Well, I know about those. I'll leave so you can sleep. How about tomorrow night for the training?"

"I'd like that."

Dick stood, making his way to the door as he murmured a "good-bye." Then, just before reaching the door, he paused. Reaching into his jacket's pocket, he withdrew a pen and a scrap of paper, jotting something down on it. Turning, he crossed the distance between them and handed it to her.

"My cell number. This is going to sound creepy, but I just can't shake the feeling that you might need this. If you get into any sort of trouble, anything, please call me."

He made his way back over to the door as Dawn gazed at the number. Before he could leave, she said, "Hey! What if I just need to talk? Can I call it then?"

She was teasing him, flirting and testing the waters. He grinned over his shoulder at her.

"Only if I'm not upstairs. If I'm there, I'd rather you just come up," he said, leaving.

Dawn couldn't wipe off the goofy smile that that had put on her face. And, thankfully, it was Dick's voice, repeating his invitation, that played in her thoughts as she went to sleep, completely erasing all scary images of the Joker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of last chapter was inspired by the title of the Within Temptation song, "See Who I Am."


	10. Dance with the Devil

Dawn had never noticed just how much they all stared at her. But, as she passed out tray after tray the next night at Arkham, she saw how every single pair of eyes of each inmate was glued to her. Every so often they did drift, but it was only to scan her form. The guard that followed her around did not seem to notice, and, if he did, he must have thought that it was only the fact that a pretty girl was feeding them. Finally, when all the trays had been handed out—save for those who were having their recreational time, meaning that someone else would feed them once they had been brought back—Dawn sighed. At least the Joker had been one of those out on recreational time. Necessary or not, she was just not ready to face him again. Not yet.

She dropped the tray bus off at the asylum kitchen and made her way to the orderly station at the front of the asylum. Dawn reached back, tightening her ponytail back into place. It was a long night, and she had only gotten in three hours ago. She fought down a yawn, finding it ill-placed because she had gotten plenty of sleep the day before. She reached up and gingerly touched her fingertips to the underneath of each of her eyes, checking for bags. When she found none, she let out a little sigh of relief. Apparently, it was not getting to her as badly as she thought it was.

"Five more to go," she said as she checked her watch upon reaching the desk, the man sitting behind it—Steve—looking up to smile at her.

She chuckled as she shrugged. "Sorry," she muttered.

But Steve shook his head. "Hey, we all feel it. Consider counting the hours until go time your official initiation into working here, kiddo."

"Yay," Dawn deadpanned, twirling one index finger in the air.

Steve laughed again, standing. He muttered a "catch you later" as he grabbed up a paperwork-filled clipboard and took off in the opposite direction from which Dawn had just come. She sighed, leaning her back against the front desk.

The halls were spotless, the inmates that were in their cells were fed, and all the proper paperwork had been filled out. Until further notice, Dawn had jack left to do. She would have never guessed this to be the job to want to bring a book to, but she was seriously considering it for her next shift. She groaned, leaning her head way back so that only the ceiling occupied her line of sight.

In truth, she could have been putting this time to better use. She could be talking with a few more of the inmates, trying to see how they felt about a glowing girl serving them their dinner, or she could have been looking for a way to access any of the Joker's blood samples in the lab. But Dawn only stood there, continuing to stare up at the ceiling. She had always been the type to make gut decisions, do what _felt_ right, and, right now, none of those options felt like the one she ought to go with. After all, what would her employers do if they caught her talking about glowing to the inmates? Or stealing from the lab? The termination of her employment, in either situation, would be the best that she could hope for.

At that moment, the familiar sounds of sneakers squeaking on the freshly-dried floors echoed in the air. Dawn brought her eyes back down to Earth in time to see Alisha fighting with her purse, presumably trying to get her keys out. Nice to know that other people had that problem too.

"Dawn, oh, thank God," she said, skidding to a halt among a storm of her own blonde curls. "I was hoping I would run into someone I could trust."

Dawn lifted a brow. What had she done to deserve that little compliment? But Alisha did not seem to notice the younger woman's confusion, instead fumbling with the keys that she had finally recovered.

"I've got to head out; family emergency. I only got the call a few minutes ago. Anyway, I was in the middle of helping the guards transport the patients from the Rec Room back to the cells. I hate to ask someone who's only be here for a such a short time to do this—as you know—but you did so well on your own last time. Could you go fill in for me?"

The familiar tugging feeling in the bottom of Dawn's stomach alerted her to the fact that, apparently, she felt that this was a good idea. Trying hard to not smile in a self-appreciative way, she nodded.

"I'm on it," she said, laying a sympathetic hand on her superior's shoulder. "I hope everything works out with your family emergency."

Alisha spread her crimson lips into a grateful smile. "Me too. But we both better go. See you tomorrow night… you do work then, yeah?"

"Yeah. Bye," Dawn said.

She began to move past her, and stopped. Turning, Dawn eyed the retreating figure of Alisha as she made her exit out of Arkham. Her gut was telling her something else now… that something was not right. But Alisha was gone, and Dawn shook the feeling from her body. After all, this was a rare opportunity. She turned and jogged up the distance of hallway up the east corridor, coming to a stop only when she spotted the mass of guards in the doorway of the Rec Room. She slowed her pace, tightening her swaying ponytail once more, and approached the closest guard.

"E-excuse me," she said, turning her head away for a moment to try and see past the mob of security officers. When this yielded nothing, she turned her attention back upon the seasoned guard—the scars showing his experience—adding, "Miss… um, Alisha sent me."

Why had it just now occurred to her that she had never learned Alisha's last name? It was odd, but try as she might, she could not even recall catching it on the laminate that all Arkham orderlies were made to wear. But the guard seemed to know who she spoke of, nodding when he spoke next.

"I don't know why. This is too dangerous for orderlies, but you're here and we'll put you to good use. Right now, we're just trying to get them all sorted out."

Dawn pursed her lips, careful not say the many things that passed through her mind. Some of the guards were so arrogant about their positions on the Arkham staff, as if being an orderly here was easy. But, sometimes, it was best to keep quiet, so Dawn merely stepped away and watched as the guards began to "sort out" the inmates. One by one, a guard, with an inmate in hand, would leave the barricade of armed officers. A few of the patients she recognized from her feeding rounds, and every single one of them gave her a lingering stare as they were led out past her. She tried her best to look like she did not notice this. Seven guard-inmate pairs later, it was only two guards—one of whom was the guard Dawn had spoken with—and herself. The guard who had spoken to her darted forth, taking Poison Ivy into his custody. The plant woman's eyes widened as she glided past Dawn, her mouth making words that were either too low to hear or too high. The guard that remained stood firmly in the doorway of the Rec Room and shook his head.

"You're very popular with them," he said, a chuckle hidden in his voice. Dawn did not find it all that funny.

She could see now what the guard had meant by "sorting them out." Apparently the patients had been arranged into a single-file line, marching up one by one to a designated guard. An inmate that Dawn recognized from her work alone stepped up the last guard, who turned and spared Dawn a worried look. Brow arched, she leaned around to see the familiar, ever-grinning visage of the Joker staring back at her—the only inmate left within the room. Lifting his handcuffed hands, he did the "finger-wiggle" wave at her, winking.

"Honey, I can switch with you. You can take Mr. Evans here back to his cell, and I can take the Joker," the guard offered.

Apparently the anxiety that Dawn was feeling was all-too clear on her face. For half a moment, she almost accepted the offer. But that was when common sense had kicked in. Hadn't she taken this job to get closer to the Joker, to get his blood? Walking him back to his cell was one of those rare opportunities of being alone with the madman. Straightening herself, Dawn swallowed down all her fear.

After all, he was only human. Or, at least, that was what she kept telling herself.

"No, that's fine. I can handle him," she said, stepping forward.

The guard did not look too convinced, but he nodded nonetheless.

"You have a set of keys?" he asked.

Dawn patted her scrubs' right pants pocket. "All orderlies do, just in case."

"And you know the procedure for this?"

"Oh, don't worry, Frankie. If she doesn't, I'll be kind enough to fill her in," Joker said, followed by a minute of chuckling.

"Shut it, clown," Frankie said before turning back to Dawn. "Do you?"

She nodded emphatically. "I do. I've seen Alisha do it a million times."

That seemed to placate Frankie as he nodded and muttered, "Stay close to me." He turned, leading his inmate up the hall as Dawn, in what she might possibly reflect back on one day as the boldest move of her life, strode up to the Joker, grasped his arm, and began to follow after Frankie the guard.

"Well, aren't you the little minx," Joker said, his voice low enough to keep the conversation between himself and Dawn.

Joker's steps were heavy and slow, no matter how hard Dawn tried to tug him along. Frankie and his inmate were already several feet ahead of them.

"Quiet," Dawn muttered, trying her best to regain their lost speed.

"Yes, quite the minx. I mean, you're being so _rough_ with me… and that stunt you pulled the other night… giving me the ol' double-cross. And I fell for it! I'll tell you something, Dawnie, you're a girl after my own heart."

No matter how fast she walked, or how tight her grip on Joker's arm was, Frankie was getting farther and farther away. Dawn took a deep breath that let itself loose in the form of a huff. Something was off. Something was _way_ off.

"Don't call me that," Dawn said, casting a sideways glance at Joker.

He was staring right at her, his smile stretched even farther across his face—if that was possible—than what was normal. She fought a shudder and turned her focus back on the hallway.

"Aw, what's the matter, kiddo? I think Dawnie's a cute name," he said, a mad cackle of laughter escaping his ruby lips.

She chose not to reply this time, her eyes locked on Frankie's back. Any moment he was going to round a corner, and then it would just be her and the clown. Her lips parted, about to cry out for him to wait for her, but decided against it in the last minute. After all, she didn't want to seem childish… and wasn't "alone with the Joker" exactly what she needed?

But her skin was crawling, and her stomach was doing somersaults. The world was off balance, and she couldn't figure out why.

"So, tell me, what brings a pretty young thing like yourself here to dismal Arkham to work? Money trouble? Boy troubles? Mob troubles?" Joker laughed, his steps so slow now that they were almost at a dead stop.

"That's none of your business, now come on," Dawn said, jerking him forward a few steps.

He laughed, shaking his head. "So forceful. I usually don't like that in a chick, but for you… I think I'd make an exception. After all, it's not every day that a guy meets a gal that actually _glows_."

Dawn's throat suddenly felt like she was trying to swallow gravel. Any second, Frankie would be gone, and here she was with the Clown Prince of Crime, talking about the one subject that she—at the moment—was trying to avoid. And he knew it. His grin was sly, his eyes now locked on her from out of the corner.

"It's not my problem, the things that you see. It's my problem when it concerns getting you back to your cell," Dawn hissed.

Joker wasn't even walking anymore. They were stopped right in the middle of the deserted corridor, no matter how hard Dawn tried to urge the madman forward. And Frankie with his inmate was a distant memory.

Alone, utterly and completely, the Joker leaned himself, causally, against the nearest wall, chuckling at the all-too-plain apprehension on her face. He lifted his wrists, pushing and pulling the chain of the handcuffs, as if testing their resistance. Dawn let go of him, her eyes drifting, for a moment, up at the security camera. There was always somebody watching them. So, she wasn't _really_ alone with him. And he wouldn't dare try anything.

But, then again, how often had he escaped in the past?

"Let's talk, Dawnie-Dawn. You know, I like to talk with people… usually all I get in return is screaming, but c'est la vie."

"You need to be back in your cell, Joker," Dawn said, putting every ounce of strength that she could behind those words.

"Heh, yeah, right. Kiddo, you haven't been completely straight with me."

"I told you, you're seeing things."

Joker waved his cuffed hands dismissively. "No, no, no. That's only part of it, cutie-pie."

"Stop calling me that. Stop calling me pet names. I'm not your 'cutie-pie' or your 'toots' or your _anything_."

He was getting to her, unnerving her. She knew that, and, worst of all, he knew it. Lazily, he pushed himself off the wall, leaning ever-so-slightly into her. Every fiber of Dawn's body screamed at her to step back, to get away, but pure stubbornness refused to move her feet. Less than a foot apart, the Key and the Clown locked eyes in an unconscious battle of the wills.

"It's not just me that you haven't been straightforward with, and you know that. I know a person with a personal agenda when I see one. And you might as well be wearing a neon sign for it. Problem is: I can't figure out what it is you want. You seem to have your own little fascination with me—which, is mutual, _toots_—but I just don't know why."

Dawn pursed her lips, thinking hard. Was now the time? Was this her moment? Maybe, if she spilled all to the Joker, it would catch him off-guard. And then, it would just be a matter of getting what she came for. But she maintained her silence, crossing her arms across her chest. She would play this one cool.

"And if I did?" she said, voice low. "Have a personal agenda, that is."

Joker's lips spread into his widest smile. "Oh, you're going to be _fun_."

Dawn heard the click a second too late. She had only a moment to register the Joker's hand—free of its cuffs—raise up to her arm before an electric pain shot throughout her body. It lasted the length of a single breath, and then her world was black.

##

Dawn's mind awoke before the rest of her did. The earth was hard beneath her, and it felt cold, even through her scrubs. She was moving too, and for one foggy moment, she thought she was in the middle of an earthquake. The next to catch up with her mind was her ears, noticing the familiar noises of passing traffic and a running engine. Finally, her eyes blinked open. Her vision was blurred, and every part of her ached. Her arms were behind her, and she tried her best to pull them forward, only to find her efforts impeded. It was another moment before she figured out that both her arms were bound by a very rough and itchy rope, and that her feet—at her ankles—were in a similar predicament. She tried a deep breath, her lungs feeling hot and empty, only to find that air would not come through her mouth. Noting that it was duct-taped shut, she then changed her breathing tactics to "nose only" and found—to her relief—that nothing was wrong in that department.

Where was she? What truck had hit her? Dawn tried her best to recall her last moments of consciousness as she began to take in her surroundings.

She was in a truck… a very empty delivery truck by the looks of it. Random loose articles bounced and thudded against the truck's empty bay alongside her. Finally, she found the front of the vehicle—only two chairs for driver and one passenger—and immediately recognized the green hair and pale blue uniform of Arkham. Cackling madly, the Joker was the truck's sole other occupant.

She groaned, low, as she let her head fall back against the cool metal flooring. A joy buzzer… had that really been what had knocked her out? How could he had possibly had gotten it? And when? … And was her stove on at her apartment?

She shook her head. Totally not important at the moment. Sighing, she realized that she had gotten what she wanted… she was completely alone with the Joker with no hopes of being interrupted. But maybe trying to get his blood as his hostage was not the best situation. She _really_ needed a plan B.

Extending her neck to catch a glimpse behind her she saw that she was fairly close to the back doors of the truck where a silver latch gleamed in the passing moonlight that shone from the windshield. She cast a cautious glance in the Joker's direction. He seemed rather preoccupied with… something. Slowly, as slowly as she could possibly manage, she began to slide herself towards the latch. Maybe, just maybe, if she could get over to it, maybe she could knock the doors open. Sure, rolling out of a speeding truck was going to hurt like hell… but it had to better than the alternative.

Careful not to hit any of the loose items, Dawn wiggled herself back a little bit. She cast her eyes back upon the Joker. Having still taken no notice of her, she wiggled back a little more. Suddenly, Joker slammed his foot down on the breaks, yanking the steering wheel to the left before straightening it out once more. Dawn squealed through her duct tape as she slammed into the left wall, and then into the two seats at the front. She heard the clown shift the vehicle into park just before he turned to grin back at her.

"You're awake finally," he said, jumping over her, just to crouch down beside her.

Dawn groaned, feeling a bit woozy from the impact she had just suffered. With a chuckle, the clown reached out a gloved hand and yanked the tape from her mouth, causing her to give a tiny yip of pain.

She took a deep breath as she Joker shook his head, shaking the tape from his hand.

"You won't get away with this," Dawn hissed.

Sure, it was clichéd. More importantly, however, it was probably wrong. After all, only one person truly knew where she was at, and by the time Giles figured out she was missing… well, it might be too late. Two Summers girls taking the big checkout across an ocean from one another… lovely.

Joker laughed, moving to sit, cross-legged, beside her, patting her shoulder like they were old friends.

"I don't make it a habit to take hostages. Well, not hostages like you. No, I like my hostages to be big names, people that will be quickly missed."

Injury, consider insult added.

"But," Joker continued, "you're interesting, Dawnie. In fact, you're one of the most interesting people I've met in a _long_ time. Like I said, you glow. And I get the feeling that it has a bigger purpose other than looking pretty. And don't lay there and try to deny it again. That'll only make me angry."

He playfully beeped her nose, gazing expectantly down upon her.

"You're right," she said. "I do glow."

In for a penny, in for pound. After all this mess, a little truth couldn't possibly hurt her.

"Yes, but why? That's what I want to know. And why is it that it was only my fellow Arkhamites and I that could see it?"

He leaned in, like he was watching a suspenseful moment in a favorite television program. Sitting up, he leaned over her, face mere inches away as he pinned her between his arms.

"What _are_ you, Dawn?" he whispered, his hot breath hitting her right in her face.

"I'm a Key, Joker. I'm a mystical Key, and that's all I really know," she said, for some unfathomable reason, whispering back at him.

"A key?"

"Uh-huh."

He wasn't moving, and she was distinctly uncomfortable with his closeness. She wiggled, as if that would remind the clown of his positioning, but he only continued to stare down at her, his frozen smile emblazoning itself in her mind.

"I have friends and family. _Powerful_ friends and family that will miss me. And believe you me, you don't want to be the one they come after," Dawn said, a moment of true bravery welling up inside of her.

"Is that so?" he whispered.

She nodded.

Chuckling, he pulled back from her, leaping to his feet.

"You want to know the funny thing about keys, Dawnie?"

He was back in the driver's seat just as Dawn said, "What?"

Adjusting his rearview mirror so that he could see her, he grinned into it.

"They just always seem to get… _misplaced_."

Her voice caught in her throat, no Buffy-esque reply coming to her as the truck roared back onto the road, filled with the sound of Joker's laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter's title was inspired by "Little Lies" by Fleetwood Mac.


	11. Your Guardian Angel

The little television that Commissioner Gordon kept on the rolling stand blared within the office. It faced them from its place at blocking the front door.

"Right now, authorities are trying to mask a panic rising within the people of Gotham. They assure us that they have the situation under control," the newswoman said, her voice sounding out from a live image of Arkham Asylum.

She sounded skeptical. Gordon rubbed a hand over his mustached face and clicked the power button on the television's remote. Turning to his three guests in the room, he shook his head.

"He's out again," was all the commissioner of the Gotham PD could manage at the moment. But it was enough.

"How long ago did he break out? How did he do it this time, Jim?" Gotham's Dark Knight, the Batman, asked as he lifted a single leaf of paper off the desk he stood by.

Batman's eyes flew over the paper, lifting them a moment later to stare back at Gordon as he waited for his reply.

"He had keys, they say," Gordon said, gesturing to the report in the Dark Knight's hand.

"Where did he get keys?" Robin asked, moving around his two companions, the tone of his voice suggesting another question altogether—something closer to, "who was stupid enough to let that happen?"

"He got them from the orderly," Batman answered, tossing the paper aside.

"Orderly?" Nightwing asked as he reached out, snatching the paper up before Robin could.

"He used an unconscious orderly, a new girl that was hired a little while ago, to keep the guards from firing on him. He left with her, using her keys to pretty much grab whatever it was he wanted," Gordon sighed, falling back into his desk's chair.

"He took her with him? We haven't found a body yet?" Batman asked.

It was a hard question, but an expected one. Gordon shook his head. "As morbid as it sounds, I think some of the newer members of the department were taking bets on how long it would be before the poor girl's grinning corpse would be found. Joker has exceeded all the guessed times now."

Gordon glanced at his watch a moment before adding, "It's been five hours since she was taken."

"She's a hostage," Robin said, confusion all over his masked face.

"But why? Does she have any influential family? Mob connections?" Nightwing asked, finally handing the report off to Robin. "They didn't mention her name in this report."

"That's because we didn't have anyone to identify her until an hour ago. She doesn't seem to have any family that we can contact whatsoever. And no friends. Seems she just moved to Gotham around the time she started working at Arkham."

Nightwing raised a brow. "What's the name they gave you?"

Gordon shifted through a stack of papers on his desk, finally withdrawing the one he was looking for.

"Dawn," he said. "Dawn Winters. The only picture we have of her is the one on her laminate, and a couple of shots caught by cameras as Joker was leaving."

Gordon handed Batman an enlarged photo as he stood and popped a tape into the television's VCR. Robin leaned up to see the photo in Batman's hands, but Nightwing had glued his eyes to the television. A moment later, a black and white image of the Joker filled the screen, showing him as he held Dawn by one of his arms on her feet as her head lolled about, backing away from a line of armed Arkham guards. Nightwing visibly paled. Gordon raised his brow.

"What is it?"

Batman and Robin both turned at Gordon's question, all eyes falling on Nightwing. But Nightwing only shook his head.

"Nothing. It's nothing."

Gordon seemed a little less than convinced, but he cut the VCR off and sighed.

"She seems like a kid… a little younger than my Barbara. Surely someone is missing her. I don't know what the Joker has planned for her, but I don't think we want to know."

"One thing is for certain. With the Joker, it won't be a simple hostage situation. He has a plan for her… I'm just not sure what it could be," Batman said.

"You officially know everything I do," Gordon said, putting his back to Gotham's personal vigilantes. When he turned back, nothing occupied the space of his office but the fluttering of the shades in the evening breeze. Gordon sighed.

"And he's off."

#

"What was that about?" Batman asked as he, Robin, and Nightwing stopped one rooftop away from Commissioner Gordon's office.

Nightwing ran a hand over his face, shaking his head. With a long sigh, he finally locked eyes his mentor.

"I know the girl," was all he could say.

Batman lifted a brow. "How?"

"She lives in my building. I was teaching her Judo."

Robin blinked. "You mean, the girl Barbara saw you with?"

Nightwing nodded. Batman put his back to the group. After a few moments, he reached for his grappling hook, simply standing a moment with it poised in his hand.

"Do you think this has to do with us? With Dick Grayson, rather than this girl?" Batman asked.

"No. It couldn't. But I couldn't tell you what it would have to do with her either."

"What do you know about her?" Batman asked, turning back to him.

"Not much. Just what she told me during training."

"Can you remember it? All of it?"

Nightwing nodded. Robin chuckled.

"Of course he can. Don't you remember what Barbara said, Batman? She said he so obviously had a crush on this girl."

The smallest of growls escaped Nightwing, but he said nothing more. Batman nodded.

"We'll get her back. But in the meantime, why don't you try to figure out what Joker wants her in the first place?"

Without waiting for a response, Batman fired off his grappling gun, and swung from sight, followed shortly by Robin. Nightwing waited a moment longer, worry twisting his insides. Finally, he sighed.

"What don't we know about you, Dawn? What don't _I_ know?" he muttered, moments before departing the rooftop as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter's title was based on the Breaking Benjamin song, "Dance with the Devil."


	12. Glow

Dawn's stomach was tight, and she was more than fairly certain that her arms and legs were bruised in several places from playing the ball to the bouncing truck's pinball machine. And it did not help that she could feel the rough ropes that Joker had used to bind her to the world's most uncomfortable chair rubbing every sore spot on her—arms and legs. She blinked, feeling her eyelashes catch the blindfold that Joker had put on her several minutes ago. She had no idea why she needed to be blindfolded. It was not like she knew Gotham's layout by heart. But, then again, the demented clown did not know that. Tired already from being tied and bouncing in the back of a truck, it did nothing to ease her aching to be suddenly tied and bouncing in a chair as Joker had drug her from the truck to wherever the hell they were now.

"Now, then," Joker said suddenly, as if listening to her moaning thoughts.

She felt the blindfold move, and a second later it fell from her eyes. The shock of the bright—florescent?—lights on her eyes made her gasp and shut them as tight as possible. A couple of test flutters later had them adjusted, and Dawn shook her head.

"Surprise! Home sweet home!" Joker said, standing a foot or so from her, his arms thrown joyfully into the air.

Dawn lifted a brow. Joker was no longer in his Arkham clothing, instead in the purple suit and spats he was so well known for. She figured he must have grabbed them on the way out of the asylum, since he had had her keys. She groaned, that fact suddenly smacking her in the face. She had practically given him free reign of Arkham. Of course he had been able to grab a delivery truck and hightail it here with her.

She tore her eyes from his pasty grinning face and looked around. The building she was in was nothing special. It looked like an old factory of some sort, long since shut down and abandoned. Broken down machinery and dusty floors were all she could see from her place. Joker let out a long cackle.

"Like the place, kiddo? It's a place I was scouting the last time, before the Bat caught me. It's not much, but with a little touch of love here and there, we could make it work."

Dawn did not like the way he so causally used "we." The Clown Prince now danced—quite literally—around her chair, stopping after a cycle or two to kneel beside her.

"Yes, yes… a dash of red here and there… maybe some glowing green stuff… We could definitely come to love the place. Oh, but we'll need a bigger place when we have kiddies… That is, if you want kids. We haven't discussed that yet. But all in good time!"

He let out another long, maniacal laugh. Dawn shook her head. It was obvious what he was doing, even to her rather untrained eye. He was mocking her. Mocking everyone else, really. Mocking what most people wanted out of a life. It was weak, but there was only one thing she could manage to mutter in response.

"You're crazy."

His laughter died down to giggles before it finally died completely. He stood up, his hand still on the back of her chair, and his unnatural grin forcibly turned upside down.

"Oh, my dear Dawnie. Dawn, Dawn, Dawn, Dawn, Dawnie," he said, shaking his head.

Without any preamble, he snaked a foot behind the front legs of the chair and knocked them upward. Dawn cried out in surprise as Joker caught the back of her chair just before her head could collide with the cement. Now he was grinning above her, and for some reason, it was rather hard for her to breathe.

"You and I are going to have some fun here. You see, I still don't know why you glow, honey. But even here, outside of Arkham, I can _see_ it. A bright green halo of light all over you…"

He took his free hand and ran it, almost reverently, down her cheek. She jerked her head away. She was getting dizzy, and her breathing was not getting any easier. But Joker only chuckled.

"You see, that little, ahem, betrayal back at Arkham was such a bad, bad, _bad_ thing, Miss Winters."

Was he still on that? Dawn could hardly believe it. She had heard it from a lot of her coworkers, some of Joker's "quirks." One of which had been that he never lets the little things so. She had even overheard one of the doctors on staff theorizing that that was why he was so fixated on Batman… that the Batman had done something—something that any normal person would have forgotten easily—to him. Dawn had not put any thought into that. Obviously… she should have.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Joker scoffed, setting her chair upright. "And you think that'll get you off the hook? Oh, sweet, you really _aren't_ from Gotham, are you?"

"I told you why I glow. I _told_ you. I swear, it's nothing more than that. I'm a mystical Key."

Joker waved a hand at her dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, I know. I heard you the first time. You didn't quite touch on why only the crazies could see it."

She shook her head. "I don't know why. It's just the way it's always been."

Joker arched a brow. "The way it's always been?"

Dawn did not like the way he repeated that. She swallowed, hard, and wiggled within her ropes—bruises be damned. Joker had put his back to her now, reaching for a long table Dawn had not put thought into before. It was covered by a long white cloth and clearly had something underneath it—like a doctor's surgical tray. Now Dawn really struggled. Joker grinned at her from over his shoulder as he pulled the table closer to himself. He moved to stand behind it and seemed to be truly relishing in the fear welling up in her. With a flourish, he removed the white cloth in one pull.

It was like something right out of a horror film. She was never going to scoff at the screaming leading-lady ever again. Because it was everything Dawn could do not to scream… and nothing had really happened yet.

The tabletop was covered from one end to the other with every surgical instrument imaginable—and some the Joker had just made up or added. A chainsaw and a plunger had found their way amongst the scalpels and handsaws, as well as rubber chickens, nasty looking liquids, and a car battery. Feet bound together or not, Dawn put them to the floor as best she could, trying with all her might to push the chair back—to put as much distance between herself and that table as possible. The Joker was laughing again, rounding the table to put a single hand on the back of the chair once again, stopping all of her efforts.

"No," Dawn whispered, and she hated the fear that seemed to be spewing from her.

Joker knelt beside her, his eyes going back and forth between the table and her.

"You know, we could have avoided this. All you had to do is tell me why you glow," he said.

"I've told you! I've told you everything I know, I swear!"

Well, that wasn't exactly true. But she figured that Joker would not care about monks or a dead hell-god, or a spell that could not be performed anymore. And she had volunteered enough information at the moment.

"Yes," Joker hissed, standing and moving back to the table. "Yes, you told me that you're a Key."

"That's right. Honestly," Dawn said, trying her to use her best "reasoning" voice.

She knew that it would not work.

Joker stopped just behind the table and lifted a scalpel up so that she could see it. He ran a thumb over the blade, and Dawn could not contain the gasp that followed as she watched a drop of blood—_his_ blood, the whole damn reason she was in this predicament—well up and get absorbed through the cloth of his glove—which had also been sliced. He eyed her for a moment, an odd look coming over his face. It lasted for all of a single moment before he walked back to her, scalpel still in hand.

"I'm a Key," she said evenly. "That's all there is to it."

"There are a lot of funny things about keys, Dawnie," he said, leveling the blade at her left cheek.

He applied the tiniest bit of pressure to it. Enough so she could feel it, but not enough for it to cut. She glared up at the clown.

"Really?" she snapped.

"Yeah. Like, a Key, on its own, isn't really complete."

Dawn arched a brow. "How do you figure?"

"Well," he said, adding a bit more pressure—and now she could feel the biting of a sting as it cut, followed immediately by a warmth running down her face, "you see, a Key isn't even necessary without a lock."

She didn't like where this was going. Not at all.

"And I don't know what lock you go to, my little green Key," he said, pulling down on the scalpel.

Dawn could not hold back the gasp that followed that bit of pain. His grin widened.

"So I'm not going to stop, Dawnie dearest, until I know what lock you go to," he finished, holding the blood-covered blade of the scalpel up for her to see.

She stared at him, face set in a resolute stone.

"This is useless. You won't learn anything."

He grinned, bringing the scalpel back down to her other cheek.

"Let's just see about that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter's title was inspired by the song "Your Guardian Angel," by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus.


	13. The Consequence

This was not good. This was as far away from good that someone could get. Their two week deadline was nowhere near up… but Dawn needed them in the now.

Xander and Willow strode shoulder to shoulder up the castle's halls, not a word spoken between the two as they seemed to move and think as one. Willow clutched the folded newspaper in her hand, letting her arm hang loose at her side as the two finally reached the door to their destination—Giles's room. Without even a knock, they entered.

Giles jumped from his place at the small table he had positioned in one corner of his large room, snapping the musty, green-bound book in his hand shut. Eyes narrowed, he fidgeted with his glasses for a moment, and his first words had a tinge of anger to them.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

"This," Willow said, throwing the newspaper to the table.

It landed with a hard _slap_, and Giles lifted it gingerly, as if it might explode. Xander and Willow stayed silent long enough to watch the older man's eyes skim the front article of the paper. Finally, they opened wide in surprise, his lips parting to form the smallest "o" of shock imaginable.

"Good Lord," he whispered. "How did you come across this?"

"We've been keeping an eye on Gotham's news, and that's a copy of their _Evening Gazette_. _This_ evening's, Giles," Xander said, arms folded over each other.

"Why have you been—" the watcher began, only to stop and sigh. "Bloody hell, forget it. The three of us all know why the two of you have been keeping an eye on Gotham's news. But how do we know this is even Dawn?"

"_Joker Escapes Arkham, Kidnapping Orderly_?" Willow quoted the title. "You and I both know that can't, judging on the events of our lives alone, just be coincidence. Besides, they give a name."

"Dawn Winters," Giles murmured as Xander stated it out loud.

"She shouldn't have gone," Willow said in an even tone.

Giles removed his glasses, wiping his forehead with his right sleeve before replacing him. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply, sinking back into his chair.

"What would you have had me do? Buffy was being unreasonable about the whole thing, and Dawn didn't want to just sit idly by while her sister lived out the last of her life when there was a _known_ cure out there. And I couldn't blame her."

"The Joker's dangerous," Xander said, but Giles threw up a hand.

"Not to us. You both know that. Look at our resources. Is he formidable? Yes. But enough so that any one of us should have to worry? No."

Xander and Willow exchanged a look. Apparently Giles was not the only one to have had that thought. Shaking his head, he tossed the green-bound book onto the table with a _thud_ and gestured listlessly at it.

"I've been researching the poison that Buffy got hit with, trying to find an answer. Studying its symptoms. I hadn't gotten far when the two of you arrived."

"We've got bigger worries now," Xander said. "Dawn's been snatched by that whacked clown, and Buffy doesn't even know that her sister's been out of country these past days."

"We can't tell her. Her condition is deteriorating. Slowly, but it's the same principle as with any disease. I fear the more stress and worry we place on her, the more it will speed the poison and, in turn, the more it will steal her life. We have to leave Buffy out of this," Giles said.

"I agree. Now let's end this so we can try again, the right way. Tell me how you hid her, Giles. Why is it I can't see her, mystically? And then undo it," Willow said, crossing the room in a couple of strides to take a seat opposite the one Giles was in—readying herself for whatever magic she was about to do.

Giles paled, his eyes searching the room before returning—panicked—to Willow.

"We have a problem with that."

Willow arched a brow. "Why?"

Giles sucked in a soft breath, releasing it slowly. Finally, he shook his head.

"The way I hid her was that I tied her essence solely to her. She isn't leaving mystical traces because they're tied only to her core."

"Goddess," Willow breathed.

"What?" Xander said, taking a tentative step forward. "I don't get it. What does that mean?"

Giles turned to the one-eyed man, shrugging. "You see, most people—whether magically inclined or not—leave little mystical traces behind them everywhere they go, on every item they touch. Like leaving a miniscule bit of their aura everywhere. I made it where Dawn didn't do that. From the moment she left this room after that spell, she became utterly untraceable by mystical means. And I highly doubt that the Joker thought to grab her cell phone as they were leaving Arkham."

Xander was still looking and bit puzzled, and Willow finally smiled a bit sadly.

"It's like trying to dust a crime scene for prints, only to find out that the criminal has burnt off their fingerprints."

Xander's eye widened. Then narrowed as he held up both his hands, shaking his head.

"Well, damn," he said. "So what do we do?"

Willow sighed and pushed herself out of the chair, resting both her hands on the table.

"We'll have to do this the old fashioned way. We need to head to Gotham."

Xander nodded. "Do I need to gather anyone, Faith or one of the others?"

Giles shook his head. "With Buffy out of commission, and with the supernatural world aware of that fact, we need all the slayers we can get out there dealing with that. I think the three of us will be more than enough to deal with a psychopathic clown."

Willow smiled. "The three of us?"

Giles returned the grin. "You didn't bloody well think I was just going to sit here, now, did you? I sent Dawn to Gotham by herself, and I'm going to make sure she comes back. Besides, maybe by studying the cure…"

"We can know what to expect out of the poison," Willow nodded.

"What are we waiting for then, team? Let's find our 'Miss Winters,'" Xander said, leading the way out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter's title was inspired by the song "Glow," by Nelly Futado.


	14. Monster

Dawn felt sick as her world came back from the blackness of being unconscious. She could feel heat and stinging all over her face, neck, arms, legs, and torso. She wanted to vomit, and she wanted to not look down at herself—to see the damage done. But it was useless as her head lolled down against her will, and she caught sight of the red stains on her pink scrubs. She swallowed hard, fighting down the bile. Had her life taken a different course, or maybe if she had been born in a normal way, she would have been panicked at the prospect of bleeding out. But she knew from experience that they were "shallow cuts," designed to bleed a little for a long time before they finally clotted and stopped. Or until a larger vessel was cut. Whatever happened first.

She forced the muscles of her neck to work, pulling her head upright. She felt dizzy, which was never a nice compliment to nauseous. She was not sure how long she had been out, or even when she had finally just lost consciousness. She moaned, forcing her eyes open a little wider. The first thing that registered in her vision was the Joker's grinning visage as he sat, reclined in a rolling chair, his feet propped up on the table of instruments while he wiped a pocketknife clean.

"Oh, nice to see you awake, sleepy-head," he said, pulling his spats back down to the ground.

Dawn wanted to cry, and the tears were already in her eyes. But she sucked in a deep—and painful—breath, holding them back with all her might. Her sister was the slayer, for God's sake. Surely she could take a little torture.

Joker swung his blade at her, way too far away to actually touch her, and she had to bite her lip—hard—to still the whimper in her throat. He chuckled.

"Stop," she said and was ashamed to hear that it sounded like begging. "I don't know anything else."

"I figured you might say that. That's why I brought out the ol' geek in me," he said, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the table.

Dawn drew her attention away from the knife in his hand and put it on the table. She could see the instruments he had used on her, which had mostly been the scalpel and the knife. But the rubber chicken—the butt of which held several unused soap bars—had gotten a couple of hits in and now had red stains on parts that should have been yellow. But for the first time she was noticing other things like microscopes, beakers, vials, and other science-y type stuff. She narrowed her eyes, shaking her head at the clown.

"What did you do?"

"I examined your blood while you were out. See, it's just no fun to hit and cut if you're not screaming away… or trying not to, as the case may be," he explained, making his way over to the microscope to withdraw a used slide.

"You're sick."

"And you're nice to say so. You know, some people get off on stuff like this."

Dawn felt her urge to vomit return. Joker laughed loudly as he held up the slide.

"You see, medically speaking, there's not one weird thing about your blood. Not so much as a green blood cell, let alone glowing. Which, I gotta say, I was disappointed when I first cut you and nothing green and bright leaked out. Just the same old boring red stuff as the rest of us. Nope, nothing special about your blood. Or your skin. Or even your hair."

Dawn growled, annoyed—and again, queasy at the thought of him taking "samples" from her. When was this stupid madman going to get the picture? He laughed at her again, patting the top of her head.

"You're so adorable when you're helpless, you know."

"You're not going to find anything out about why I glow through _science_. I'm a _mystical_ Key."

"So you've said, Dawnie, dearest. So you've said."

He walked over to her, leaning down so that his face was, once again, uncomfortably close to hers. He lifted his pocketknife—she had forgotten about it for just a moment—and pressed it, sharp-side, against her cheek. She could feel a fresh stream of blood down her cheek again and watched in horror as a new gleam flashed in his eyes.

"Stop," she whispered.

"Make me."

She wiggled against her ropes, but they had gained no slack. And in some spots, close to her cuts, they hurt even more. She hissed, sucking in a breath at the pain. Joker did not move.

"What _are_ you?"

"Damn it, I'm telling you the truth!" she shouted suddenly, sick of this mind game.

He pulled back, looking mildly impressed at her outburst. He crossed his arms, careful with the knife as he did so, and arched a brow at her.

"But are you telling me the _whole _truth?"

She bit her lip, and he grinned triumphantly, turning to snatch the chicken up from the table.

"I'd start getting real gabby, if I were you, Dawnie."

She pursed her lips together, resilient. He sighed, shrugging.

"All right."

He swung the butt of the chicken directly into her face, knocking her head to the side as she cried out. He stopped, giving her just a second to say something. Still, she remained silent. He swung it from the other side now, garnering the same effect. She kept her silence, taking blow after blow from the chicken. After a few minutes, when he got bored, he switched back to the knife, cutting straight lines from her shoulder to her elbow on both her arms.

Joker was getting angry. She could see it in his eyes. At last, with a frustrated growl, he stepped behind her chair, shoving the knife to her throat.

"Let me explain something to you, girly," he said, pressing it into her skin as hard as possible without cutting her.

Dawn knew it was not possible, but she could have sworn she had stopped breathing.

"I'm getting bored. And when I get bored, my toys tend to get _broken_."

He shoved the knife a little closer, and she could feel its familiar bite.

"All right!" she shouted. "All right! I was made from a mystical ball of green light called the Key! I wasn't even born right! A group of monks was protecting the Key from this hell-bitch of a hell-god, and they had to hide it. They used a spell to take make memories and take DNA and whatever to make me."

The knife dropped from her throat, and she sighed. Memories flooded her mind as she revisited the time when her blood _did_ mean something to the Key. She had a flash of Buffy telling her that she was made from "Summers' blood," and a single tear finally rolled free. She took a deep breath, glaring up at the Clown Prince as he circled around to eye her strangely.

"Don't suppose you'll let me go now?"

He laughed. "Now _that's_ funny."

He paused, thoughtful for a moment with his eyes locked on her. Finally, he shook his head.

"I'm impressed. You see, I expected you to be hysterical by now. Absolutely coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs, if you get my meaning."

"But?"

"But you're not. I thought, for just a second when you were spewing all that stuff about monks and such, that you'd finally flipped your lid. But no."

He knelt down now, propping his hands on his knees. "You're actually telling me the truth, aren't you, my dear?"

She shook her head. "What do you want from me?"

"You know what I want. You're a Key, by your own definition, kiddo. That means you've got to open something. You tell me what, and this will all stop."

"I don't open anything. Not anymore. You're way too late for that, Joker."

"I think you're lying."

"I'm not. I swear. I don't open anything anymore."

He _tsk_ed disapprovingly, standing.

"Then let's start again," he said, letting the light gleam off his knife.

#

Unseen by either the Joker or by the Key, a grinning woman stood on the shadowed catwalk above them. She was dressed in scrubs similar to Dawn's, her curly blonde hair hanging loose tonight. She frowned as she watched the Joker take another slice at Dawn, shaking her head.

Things were moving too fast with too little progress for her liking. She had hoped that the clown would be able to extract information about the Key _from_ the Key using his… _unique_ methods, allowing her to maintain her cover. But the girl was proving too resilient. At this rate, she would be dead before anything new could be learned.

The onlooker sighed, plucking her Arkham employee laminate—which clearly listed her as Alisha, Senior Orderly—from her shirt. Her cover had been good, but she could not afford to take the risk that the Joker would kill Dawn.

"Well, I was tired of this gender confusion anyhow," she muttered.

She followed the statement up with a series of words in Latin. The effect was instantaneous as "she" felt her limps stretch and plump, "her" hair grow in to a short, close cut—still retaining the same bright, blond color—and her clothes morph into a smart, navy blue suit.

Now, instead of Alisha on the catwalk, William Cane—inventor of poisons, poisoner of the Chosen One, and un-credited creator of the Clown Prince—stood in "her" place. Being dead had been such a good cover, coupled with that of being a young, female orderly. But the time for covers was over. If he wanted to learn about the Key, he would have to intervene, or the girl—that sweet little vessel for the Key—would be dead. And he could not afford to lose such a precious potions ingredient.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter's title was inspired by the song, "The Consequence" by The Black Ghosts.


	15. Anything But Ordinary

Nightwing perched on the ledge of the roof of a small diner, overlooking one of the many streets right in the middle of downtown Gotham. His lips were pursed, and he kept lifting a small pair of binoculars to his eyes listlessly. Every time he removed them from his eyes, it was with a small growl.

It had been eight hours since Dawn had been taken from Arkham. Nightwing had scoured all of his resources trying to find out whatever he could on Dawn Winters. And he had given Batman all the information he had had on her, which was not much. She had told him that her name was Dawn Winters. She had taken Judo. Her mother and father were divorced. Her mother was dead. She was raised by her sister, Buffy. She was an honors student both in high school and college. And she was originally from California.

A small, sad grin formed on his face as other little facts rose to mind. She had not been allowed to watch horror films at twelve, and when she had broken that rule she ended up leaving on the lights while she slept. She smelled like strawberries, and her laugh was like music. And she had been through some sort of hard time. Something that had caused her to slit her own wrists.

Nightwing had kept those tidbits to himself.

His resources had had nothing on the young woman. Now it was up to Batman.

Almost as if he had been listening in on his fellow vigilante's thoughts, Nightwing heard a beep in his ear, letting him know that his mentor was trying to communicate with him. He lightly pressed a finger to the link, letting out a gruff, "Yeah."

"Do you want the good news or the bad news?" Batman's familiar voice rumbled into his ear.

"I could really use some good news right now."

"Everything that you told me about Winters was true."

Nightwing's eyes widened. "What?"

"Everything she said about having a sister, taking Judo, being an honor student, it was all true. However—"

Nightwing groaned. "I was afraid of that."

"However, it was all true of a girl by the name of Dawn Summers who lived in a town called Sunnydale with older sister Buffy Summers, mother Joyce, father Hank."

"Wait. Sunnydale? Wasn't there something about that town on the news some time ago?"

"I should think so. It's now a crater. Not so much as the 'Welcome to' sign is still standing. And rumors persist that big sister Buffy had something to do with it."

"Whoa. Wait. Batman, how could any one person turn a whole town into a crater and their involvement in it be nothing but a 'rumor'? I mean, is this Buffy Summers a cape or something?"

"I've already checked that with the Justice League. They've never heard of her before. They're doing a bit more searching on the matter, just in case she's just one we haven't come across yet."

Nightwing stood upon the ledge of the roof, looking down at the small sedan that had pulled alongside the road to park. Shaking his head, he turned his gaze skyward.

"I can't believe it. Why would Dawn tell me true things… but leave out that she came from a town that's now nonexistent?"

"Obviously, she was hiding something. Everyone's got a secret. You of all people should know that."

Batman was right. But that fact did nothing to ease the small pain gnawing at Nightwing's insides.

"That's not all," the Dark Knight added. "I ran her name through some databases that I hacked. Turns out, our government has a red flag raised on Buffy."

"Why?"

"My question exactly. I haven't been able to crack the file to read it. Whatever it is, they want to make sure it stays as top secret as possible."

Nightwing gave a wry smile. "That's never stopped you before."

"And I don't intend to let it now. Nightwing… if there's anything else you can tell me that can help me pinpoint more about this Dawn Summers… now's not the time to hold back."

It was one of the reasons most people either loved or hated Batman: his keen insight. Nightwing had given no indication that he had held back information. He had been trained by the best to lie with the best. But the Dark Knight saw right through him. Nightwing was not sure if that put the man on his personal "love" or "hate" lists at the moment.

"She attempted suicide once. Her mother took her to the hospital for it. There should be records somewhere of it, crater or not. And her mother died of an aneurysm."

"I'll keep looking. We'll find her, Nightwing."

"Before or after the Joker kills her?"

It was grim, and it drew nothing but silence as its immediate reply. With a groan, Nightwing changed the subject.

"What about the clown? Any leads on him? None of my sources have anything."

"Joker was careful this time," the Dark Knight said. "Not a single clue left behind to indicate where he has her hidden. We _will_ find her, Nightwing. Batman out."

Nightwing shook his head, looking out across the many rooftops ahead of him. He pulled a grappling gun, aimed it easily, and fired.

"Who _are_ you, Dawn?" he muttered just moments before swinging into the night.

#

The diner's bell rang as Giles and Xander—with a sandwich—exited the building. They made a beeline for the black sedan they had rented upon arriving in Gotham, Giles taking the driver's seat while Xander piled in behind him. Both slammed their doors harder than necessary, causing Willow to look up from the giant, musty tome that set open in her lap. She arched one brow over at Giles.

"Well, I've had no luck," Willow noted, snapping her book shut. "Every mention of that spell in this book says that it can only be removed when the subject is standing with you or you know their location. And for good reason, since it's made to hide you from mystical sight. What did you guys learn?"

Giles swiped his glasses off his face as if they were the subject of his agitation. He wiped at the lenses so hard that Willow thought, for a moment, that he might crack one. However, they went unharmed as the former watcher jabbed a thumb in the direction of the diner.

"Jeremy says that nothing mystical has beeped up on the Mystical Ether Net. So we can assume that Dawn's still among the living."

"And that's it?"

Giles nodded. Willow could see the cause of his annoyance. That little bit of information was little comfort.

Xander stuck his head in between the two in the front, looking to each of them.

"How does that mean that Dawn's all right?"

"Usable or not, she's still the Key. And if the vessel that houses the Key is killed, then magic users everywhere would be able to feel it. Most would likely not feel it enough to note if one wasn't paying attention… but they'd feel it somehow. Jeremy said that he would keep an eye out for us."

"Well, not a glimmer of Keyness… that's a good thing, right?" Xander asked.

"It _does_ mean she's still alive," Giles nodded.

Willow's mouth pulled downward into a deep frown. "But 'alive' and 'all right' are two very different things."

No one responded to that for a long while. Finally, Giles nodded toward Willow's tome.

"Not a thing we can use at all?"

"Not a damn thing."

With barely a look, she tossed the book behind her, narrowly missing Xander as it landed on the seat beside him. She muttered an apology, and he waved it off.

"I thought that there'd be _some_ sort of mystical thing I could do once I got here. But I guess we really are gonna have to do it the old fashioned way. Clues, sources, all of it. Very Sherlock Holmes."

Xander half-grinned. "Very Scooby."

Willow could not help but smile. Giles reached for the keys, starting their vehicle.

"Then we all know where we have to go now," he noted.

"But it's way past visiting hours. How are we going to pull that off?" Willow asked.

"I have a friend who works at the asylum. That's how I managed to get Dawn an interview so quickly."

"You don't mean…?" Xander said, leaning forward again. "We're going to Arkham to—?"

"To talk to someone who knows the Joker better than anyone," Giles confirmed.

"Harley Quinn," Willow nodded as the trio made their way toward Arkham.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter's title was inspired by "Monster" by Lady Gaga. I was trying not to use two song titles by the same artist in this fic, but that one just fit so well.


	16. The Grand Illusion

It was surreal. Surreal enough to make Dawn believe that she _had_ snapped, but the twinges of pain every now and again made it feel solid. The Joker—the crazy who had done all the cuts and bruising to her—was now patching her up. She inhaled, trying to keep herself awake, and she smelled the faint after-scent of burning hair. To her left, she could still see the jumper cables he had used an hour or so ago to electrocute her.

Had it been an hour? Longer? Shorter? Dawn was not really sure at the moment as Joker poured a bit of rubbing alcohol onto a cut. She cried out with the shock of the intense stinging, and Joker clucked his tongue at her.

"Now, now, Dawnie. We have to get you all healed up," he said in an eerily soothing voice.

Dawn groaned as he applied some gauze to the knife wound he had just sterilized.

"Can't have you dying on me before I figure out what you're for," he sing-songed.

Her head lolled as she let out another groan. It had been the same throughout the entire torture process. Pain, then: "What do you open, my little Key?" When she did not answer, more pain. Then, another question followed in some variation of the same thing: "Where's your door at? What are you hiding behind your lock?"

Some of the questions sounded vaguely suggestive, and Dawn was sure that that was part of the torture. The thought of anything sexual coming from the psychotic clown made Dawn want to vomit. She had no idea what Harley saw in this guy. Unless, and she thought this with a horrible lurch occurring in her stomach, Harley was into heavy BDSM.

Her head was getting fuzzy. Harley/Joker BDSM thoughts were proof of that. Some more stinging occurred as Joker sterilized another wound. Dawn only hissed at that one, and Joker let out a loud, one-shot cackle.

"I hate you," she muttered.

He patted her head like she was a cat or something.

"I know."

Dawn groaned again, casting her gaze about the room. She wanted to look at something, _anything_, but that grinning visage. In the distance, far, far off, she thought she saw a door. But this was a huge warehouse if the height of the ceiling was any indication. For all she knew, it was probably just the doorway into another room. With the Joker quiet now, and her grunts and groans of pain under control, Dawn could hear the steady buzzing of the florescent lights above her. It was calming. A constant in a world that seemed out of control. For a moment, she could focus on that sound and forget. Forget that her sister's life was depending on her getting some of this sicko's blood. Forget that only Giles knew that she was in Gotham. Forget that not a soul knew that the Joker had kidnapped her.

She was not the baby anymore, to be guarded by big, strong slayers. She had struck out on her own, independent and happy about it. And now, no one was coming to save her. Dawn's throat felt thick, but she swallowed it down. She had given the Joker enough satisfaction with her screams and groans. He would not get her tears as well.

"There!" Joker proclaimed, breaking her thoughts.

Dawn brought her eyes back down to him, watching him toss the first aid items carelessly back onto the little silver tray. Each landed with its own particular type of noise, and Dawn took in as much of herself that she could see. Joker had dressed every wound… had even rubbed something on all of her bruises. Even the ones on her torso, under her scrubs. The thought made her sick all over again, but she shook her head, letting it fall back.

"Now, we'll give those wounds some time to get nice and sturdy… shouldn't be longer than a day or two… and then we'll pick up where we left off," Joker said.

Dawn lifted up just enough to see him take a seat on the desk just across from her. He brought his feet up to the edge of the desk and wrapped his arms about his knees.

"And where was that?" Dawn moaned.

Her eyes were on the lights again. Bright, humming lights.

"Oh, Dawnie girl, you didn't black out for that long. We'll pick up finding out what it is that you open, and how a person works as a Key anyway."

That was it. The breaking point. That one annoying push too far. Every part of her hurt, she felt sick, and all this damn clown cared about was what it was she opened. Dawn's head snapped up, and before she could stop herself, she was screaming at him.

"I told you! I am a mystical Key! A group of monks took a big ball of green light and made it human—made it _me_! A hell god was after it, so they needed to hide it! They sent it to my sister, the Vampire Slayer, using her and my mom's and my dad's DNA to make me!"

Joker, who—from the grimace—obviously did not enjoy being screamed at, pulled out his pocket knife, flipping it open.

"Yes, but what did the god want you for, deary?" he growled.

"To get home!"

Anger was pumping through her now, her blood like fire. She knew this was stupid. She knew that she should know better, that nothing good would come of this. But she couldn't stop.

"She wanted to get back to her home dimension! But my sister kicked her ever-lovin' ass, and she missed her window of opportunity!"

Dawn's chest was heaving, and the pain she was feeling was as constant as the lights' hum, but she pushed it all back. Joker no longer looked angry with her, just intrigued. But that did not matter. She was still pissed at _him_.

"And what opportunity was that?" he asked, his voice levels below hers in calmness.

"A certain time, a certain place. I think it had to do with star alignment and stuff. I did some research after. Every dimension has its own combination… like a…"

But at this, she stopped. She was making herself sick, talking about her essence in such a way. Joker finished the thought with a satisfied grin.

"Like a lock."

Both of them simply stared. Joker had what he wanted now. He did. Dawn knew that. She knew her mistake. But neither moved. Neither made a sound.

So it was very, extra easy to hear the new arrival as he announced, "_Finally_!"

Joker whirled until he was standing beside Dawn, and both were eyeing the figure that entered into the room. He was a plump man in a navy suit with a bright red tie. His hair was a bright blond, closely cut to his head. He was clapping his thick hands together, his lips spread into a happy-go-lucky smile.

"Finally, finally, _finally_," he said, sighing.

Joker crossed his arms, one eyebrow cocked. "And who are you to crash my party?"

"Oh, yes. Where _are_ my manners? My name is William Cane. Inventor of poisons, and your creator, Joker," he said with a sweeping bow.

Joker was not amused, a look that was definitely hard for him to pull off. But Dawn's breath caught in her throat. In the moment of arrogance that was Cane lowering his gaze away from the Joker, Dawn hissed up at her captor.

"Untie me. _Now_. This isn't good."

If Joker heard her, he ignored her as Cane righted himself.

"Okay, Billy," Joker drawled, "why are you _here_? You have exactly—" Joker peered down at the watch on his left wrist, "—one minute to answer me."

"Oh, without delay," Cane grinned. "You see, I poisoned this girl's lovely sister—the Chosen One—some time ago with one of my… more lingering poisons. I knew the girls to be close, and I knew—after much study and surveillance—that this young thing was the Key. Once young Dawn went away to college, I knew this was my chance… but alas, the elder Summers girl still had baby sister under close watch."

"What?" Dawn asked before she could stop. "Buffy didn't have me under surveillance!"

Cane laughed. "Oh, yes, she did. Slayers and Wiccans by your dorm every few hours or so. Or following you around the campus."

Dawn felt her face flush, and she was literally bouncing in her chair, causing it to raise less than an inch off the floor and fall with tiny tapping noises.

"Oh my God, I can't believe this! This is _so_ like Buffy! She swore! She swore she was going to let me go… to let me live my _own_ life! Surveillance? Like I can't walk two feet without help! I'm not a child!"

She stopped. She was suddenly aware that all eyes were on her. She was getting that look again… the one that told her that she needed to stop whatever it was that she was doing _immediately_. She cleared her throat, her eyes lifting to Cane.

"Um, you continue."

"Yes," Cane grinned. "Well, as I mentioned, it was impossible to reach Dawn. So I poisoned her sister. I knew that would bring Dawn flying home, and that it would send her flying to you—her only hope for a cure."

Joker glanced down at Dawn, and his face was the absolute picture of "unreadable."

"Okay," he said. "But you haven't explained why you wanted Dawnie here so badly. I mean, what is it? Attracted to _younger_ women? Also, you might want to touch on, just a little, why I shouldn't just kill you now."

"Like you're one to talk! But no, my desire for Dawn is not so much carnal."

That would have been a relief to Dawn if she was not completely and totally aware of some of the other choices that was left to her.

"I want to make my masterpiece… the finest poison of all time! One that has the ability to kill without an antidote, but also be malleable to do so much more."

Dawn shook her head. "That doesn't make sense."

Cane laughed. "Of course it doesn't. It doesn't exist yet. But to do that, I need the blood of the Key… and I needed to know what it took to work the Key's powers. And what pretty little Dawn just spouted to you was _exactly_ what I needed! Like a lock… all I have to do now is discover what lock I'm looking for. So now, if you don't mind Joker, you've done your work. I'll be taking Dawn now."

Cane took a single step forward, and Joker erupted into his hysterical laughter. He placed a single hand on Dawn's shoulder, shaking his head. With his free hand, he wiped away a fake tear.

"Finders keepers, I'm afraid, Billy boy," Joker said.

Dawn's stomach tightened. At the moment, she was not entirely sure who she would be safer with… but she knew which one had what she needed. So, for this one moment only, she was completely Team Joker.

Cane shook his head. "Oh, but Joker… you've been doing exactly what I wanted you to all along."

And in the next moment, William Cane no longer stood before them. Instead, in a short moment of morphing, there stood Alisha, the Arkham Senior Orderly. In her sweet voice, she laughed and stated, "Well, I needed you to get the information for me. The girl's got a stubborn streak in her a mile long. She'd never give up the information to me… the man who poisoned her sister."

Joker growled as Cane transformed back into himself. Dawn felt the urge to vomit. Alisha? This whole time? Had… Had Cane been disguised as a woman ever since his "death"? These were things that had Dawn both terribly curious and terribly sure she did not really want to know.

"It's easier when everyone thinks you're dead," Cane shrugged. "And as sweet Alisha, I've danced you about my stage like a puppet on a string."

Dawn's inner Xander wanted so badly to utter the word, "Burn!" But Dawn fought it down, figuring that the situation was bad enough. Joker's eyes looked like he could spout flames at any moment. His free hand moved out of Dawn's line of sight, and he flashed a deadly version of his eternal grin at Cane.

"Like a puppet, eh? Well, let's see what happens when the strings get cut!"

A cloud of smoke enveloped Cane, and it was quickly expanding to fill the room. It was a sickly green color, and Dawn was pretty sure it was deadly. She heard the near unmistakable sound of a pair of spats on cement, and she knew that Joker had high-tailed it out of there. And the smoke was making its way toward her—fast.

She wriggled in her ropes, trying her best to loosen them and to ignore the pain they caused her wounds. But it was no use. The smoke was getting closer, obscuring the view of the warehouse more and more. She could no longer see the expanse of the place in front of her.

Before she could turn her head to see if the smoke had encircled her, like a shark about to descend on its prey, something hard and plastic came down over her face. She felt a strap tighten behind her head and her rope loosen. Her hands now free, they flew to her face first.

A gas mask. Someone had put a gas mask on her… and just in time. The smoke was now completely filling the room, and she could hear the faint sound of coughing. She whirled in place, unable to see so much as her hand in front of her face. What _was_ that that the Joker had fired at Cane? She shook her head. It did not matter. What mattered now was getting the hell out of dodge.

Dawn took off in the first direction she picked, and immediately she bounced off something soft, but very solid. Cane, she knew. She quickly backed out of—what she assumed was—his reach and continued on. She ran as hard as she could, one hand holding onto her mask as if it might spontaneously fall off and the other held out in front of her. She had no idea where she was going. For all she knew, she could have been doing circles. Joker was long gone, she knew. But _someone_ had put that mask on her.

"Help!" she called out.

She was only going to chance that once. After all, she did not need Cane—whom she did not doubt in the least would make it through this gas attack—tracking her. But her mysterious savior on the other hand? Yeah, that one could show up at any time now. Hell, all she needed was someone to show her the door.

As if in answer, she felt a hand slip into hers. Shocked, she followed without a sound as this other person led her on. She lost all will to focus on her surroundings, leaving that up to her guide, and instead started to focus on the hand. It was gloved, and it was larger than hers by a decent amount. Cane had been wearing no gloves, neither as himself or as Alisha. And she was sure this was a man. Had someone finally found her? Giles or Xander? Or one of the many, many vigilantes that protected the city? Yes! Maybe Batman or Nightwing had finally found her! Sure that would put a dent into her plan of getting the Joker's blood… but maybe she could talk Batman into understand her need, helping her. Yes… surely Batman would get it. Everything was going to be all right.

And then she reached the cold night air. Without the smoke to cloud her vision, it was clear who her "savior" was. The Joker, one hand in hers, the other firmly holding a gun, pulled her out of the warehouse and shoved her into a nearby car. Shoved her so hard that she landed in the passenger seat, righting herself just in time for Joker to zoom off.

So much for her good fortune. Now she had gone from a hostage in chair, to a hostage in a speeding car… and a gun had been added… that was nice.

Dawn had only seconds to contemplate ducking and rolling out of the car before Joker reached across her, pulling her seatbelt down and buckling her in.

"Play me for a patsy!" he was screeching, driving as manically as he spoke. "Well, we'll see who gets the last laugh!"

Joker's gun waving was getting a little extreme, and Dawn was beginning to wonder if he was even aware that he was holding it. Suddenly, he trained the barrel of the weapon onto her.

"All because of _you_," he hissed.

"Hey! I was just as played as you were!" she shouted.

The gun did not move… but it did not fire either. So Dawn continued.

"It was _my_ sister that Cane poisoned… to get to _me_! I'm just as pissed at him as you are!"

The gun lowered, albeit slightly, and Joker arched a brow.

"So? You're useless now. I know what I wanted to know. I could just kill you here, toss you out into the night."

"And give Cane what he wants?"

That gave the Clown Prince a pause.

"Look," Dawn said—and she knew she was pressing her luck, "let's make a deal. I'll help you kill Cane… but in exchange… I want two vials of your blood."

"My what? My blood?"

Dawn nodded. "It's the cure, Joker. The thing that'll save my sister."

"And what good would _you_ be against that magically maniacal monstrosity? You're just a kid."

Dawn paused, rethinking saying that most of Batman's sidekicks were kids. Instead, she held her hands out in front of herself, cupping them like she was about to scoop water. She muttered a few words in Latin. From a tiny dot of light, a sprout formed in her hand, growing into a beautiful red rose. She let it hang in the air a moment before she tossed it into the Joker's lap. He arched a brow.

"Keep doing stuff like that, and Harley will have your head on a platter," he chuckled.

Dawn ignored his comment. "I'd also want to be kept alive, of course. But you see what I did there? That's magic, Joker. And I can do more. So much more. That's the simplest thing I can do."

"Well, you have been just so _trustworthy_ before," Joker huffed.

"And I'm _still_ more trustworthy than you."

Joker glanced down to the rose in his lap. Finally, he nodded. With one loud cackle, he added, "Deal! Oooh, boy! Aren't we gonna have fun!"

The two of them sped off into the night, and Dawn shook her head.

And Willow thought that spell's only purpose was to look pretty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter's title was inspired by "Anything but Ordinary" by Avril Lavigne.


	17. Where the Lines Overlap

Giles had his glasses pushed slightly up, rubbing the bridge of his nose so fiercely that Willow was sure that just a bit more pressure and he might break it. But, she really could not blame his frustration. Even Xander, who sometimes had an unprecedented amount of patience, was standing in the corner, looking like he was about to lose it. Willow, from her place across the metal table that was bolted to the floor, leaned forward, a forced grin on her face.

"Miss Quinn, we _really_ need you to focus for us," she said.

Harleen Quinzel, known partner in crime and girlfriend of the Joker, bounced in her chair. Her blonde locks were pulled back in puffy pigtails, and she was busy smacking away on a piece of pink bubblegum. She was the very picture of girlish fun, despite the fact that the redheaded witch knew that she held a doctorate in psychology.

Her bright smile flipped into a deep frown as she shook her head at Willow.

"Just so I can rat on Mistah J? No doin', Miss Rosenberg," Harley said, holding her head up with her eyes closed, like a child refusing a spoonful of veggies.

Willow ran a hand through her hair, noticing that Giles was doing the same thing. With pursed lips, she dropped her hands much faster than necessary. Xander, from his place in the corner, spoke up.

"We just need to know where he is. We're not going to hurt him, promise."

Harley let out a loud "Ha!" and huffed. "Oh really? I bet the Bat put you up to this! You know, he's done that before."

Giles arched a brow. "H-he's sent in civilians to speak with you?"

"What? No. He's used my knowledge of my puddin' to catch him. Totally tricked me. Told me he wasn't gonna hurt him either. Well, I can tell you how _that_ turned out."

And this was how it had been from the moment they had gotten the woman—still in her straight jacket for obvious safety reasons, according to the orderlies. A flat refusal to give them anything on the Joker. It had been a total waste of twenty—Willow looked at her watch—_thirty_ minutes. It was clear that it was pressing on everyone's minds. Every minute spent here, which could very much be a dead end, was another minute Dawn was with him. And possibly dead.

Willow pushed the thought away at the same time she decided that she was going to try a different approach. She slapped her hands down on the table, hard, and shoved herself to her feet. She leaned in close to Quinn, who was crossing her eyes to gaze at the witch.

"We need information about the Joker now!" Willow demanded.

Harley blinked. Her gaze slid to the side, catching Giles and Xander briefly, before returning to Willow.

"Or what?" she asked, seeming genuinely curious. "What are a little waif of a girl, a dweeb, and a dweeb in a tweed jacket gonna do to me?"

Willow sighed and fell back into her seat, head in her hands. To an extent, she was right. Willow couldn't very well threaten her with magic without a demonstration. But that ran the chance of an orderly entering at the wrong time. They couldn't take that chance—or waste that time.

"Look here," Giles said, "do you know where the Joker is or not, Dr. Quinzel?"

She shrugged. "Maybe I do. Maybe I don't."

Willow rolled her eyes. "We don't have time for this. Look at me, Harley."

The shock of such a blunt statement made the insane woman do just as Willow had said. It only took a second of holding the woman's gaze before Willow felt her own eyes flash. All the jumbled thoughts of Harley's mind flew through hers in the matter of moments, without Harley being one bit aware. Most of her thoughts seemed to be about the Joker in some shape, form, or fashion. Which would be useful if Willow wasn't in such a hurry for specific information. Finally, she stumbled across it. A recent thought, one of confusion.

She had no idea where the Joker was. And she was quite worried about him, since the last news report on him was his escape with his hostage. She was also a bit jealous that the hostage was a young girl, and she wondered if the Joker was interested in his kidnapped orderly. Willow broke the connection and sighed.

"She doesn't know anything," she said, standing and knocking on the door.

Xander stepped out from the corner as the nearest guard and orderly combination allowed the three to exit as they began to collect a dizzied Quinn. Xander watched as the dazed woman was led away. He jabbed a finger behind him in Harley's direction as he asked Willow, "She gonna be okay?"

Willow waved her hand nonchalantly. "She'll be fine. Dizziness is a common side effect of a mind reading so direct."

"So, she knew nothing of the Joker's location?" Giles asked as they three of them checked their visitor passes with the receptionist at the end of the wing.

"Nothing," Willow groaned. "All of that, and we're still no closer to finding Dawn."

They had lowered their voices, stopping just feet in front of the desk that the receptionist sat behind. Xander shook his head.

"So… now what?"

Giles took a deep breath, releasing it slowly.

"Sadly… I don't know," he said.

"Harley was our best shot," Willow added. "I mean, unless we break into the Gotham City Police Department and light up the bat signal."

"That!" Xander said, pointing at his friend. "Can't we do that? Why can't we do that? Batman is our next best shot! Everyone knows that nobody's better at catching that clown better than him."

"Oh, yes, Xander. We'll do just bloody that and get ourselves arrested. That's a good way to remain below radar!" Giles snapped.

Xander raised his hands defensively. "I'm just trying to think outside of the box here."

Giles sighed as he phone began to ring. "I know," He pulled the phone from his pocket and added, "It's from headquarters. Excuse me."

As the Watcher stepped away, Willow crossed her arms. She glanced around the dim front lobby of the asylum. She ended with another shake of her head.

"I really don't know what to do next, Xander."

"And… still no Key-like feelings in your magic? Dawn's… okay?"

Willow nodded. "Alive, yes. 'Okay' is really a different question."

Both of the Scoobies fell silent at that. Willow turned after a moment, more of a jerk than a turn, toward the hall they had just walked up.

"You would think, in a place full of crazies, that someone would know _something_ about Dawn!" she hissed.

"Then… then maybe this isn't a dead end, Will. Maybe Arkham is exactly where we need to start."

The witch turned to her longtime friend. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "Well, it might sound like I've been watching a lot of crime shows lately, but this is the scene of the crime. This is where Joker escaped from. Where he nabbed Dawn from. And where Dawn worked at for a little while. Odds are… there's something here we can use."

Willow pursed her lips. Xander was right, it did sound like he had been spending a few hours in their rec room back home, watching CSI. But he had a point. Actually, he had several. The sound of soft footsteps brought Willow's attention to the returning Giles. The Watcher slipped his phone back inside his jacket, a sad look pulling at his face.

"What is it?" Xander asked.

"It's Buffy. That was one of our slayers on the phone. Buffy's condition is worsening even faster now. Time is running out, and both Dawn and the cure are out of our reach."

"Maybe not," Willow said.

"What do you mean?"

Willow and Xander explained their train of thought, which ended with Giles looking a bit more brightened.

"Of course. Well done, Xander. There _must_ be something we can get out of this place, and this people, about Dawn."

Causing a bolt of shock to go through all three of the Scoobies, a deep voice from the shadows added, "I agree."

Stock-still, they watched as Nightwing, dressed in his black one-piece suit adorned with only an electric-blue bird, stepped into the light.

#

How many abandoned buildings were there in Gotham? It seemed to take Joker no time at all to find another one, right on the opposite side of town—Dawn guessed—from where they had been. Thinking vaguely on the economic conditions of Gotham, the Key was ushered from the vehicle at gunpoint.

Joker lost no time in grabbed her roughly by the arm, leading her into the large, former-factory. It was dark, and Joker lugged and shoved her about—gun in his other hand, of course—as he searched for the toggle that would turn on the lights. Dawn doubted that electricity would still be running to the building, but once again, both the Joker and Gotham surprised her as the clown found exactly what he was searching for and the fluorescent lights flickered to life.

There were still bits of furniture in the middle of the floor. Old metal chairs and desks, not to mention the actual conveyor belts still circling the perimeter of the room. Joker pushed her into the nearest chair, and she landed hard, an "oomph" falling from her lips. The Clown Prince then grabbed up another chair, pulling it up and leveling the gun at Dawn. She held up her hands defensively.

"Hey, hey! Remember our deal? I'm on your side," she gently reminded the madman.

Joker's grin stretched even further. "Yes, Dawnie, I _also_ remember just how trustworthy you can be on your end of promises. So, I want to know every little teeny tidbit about Billy Cane that you know, or I'll leave you smiling for the Bat."

Dawn swallowed, hard. She nodded.

"Okay. B-but, it's not much. I had never even heard of him until he poisoned Buffy."

Joker huffed out a cackle. "Buffy? Who's that?"

Her lips pursed. "My sister. My _dying_ sister."

"This 'Chosen One' or whatever that Billy mentioned… is named Buffy? Oh, oh!" Joker said, laughing so hard that he was actually gripping his sides with his free hand. "That's rich!"

Dawn crossed her arms. "Anyway. The only other things I know about Cane is that he's a dark magician, specializing in potions, who ran to Gotham. He created the poison that's killing Buf—my sister. And the acid that made you the way you are now is the cure to that poison. And you're the only one—the only thing—still connected to it. It's in your blood. And now, on top of learning that he wants to use me to create some crazy-ass poison, we both know exactly the same things about him."

Joker eyed the girl for a moment, and Dawn found his frozen grin even more unnerving. She fidgeted under the stare of both the clown and his gun, waiting for him to speak. But after what seemed like an eternity, she gave in to desperation.

"Cane _can't_ be allowed to win," she all but pleaded.

Joker chuckled low. "I don't know, chicka. Creating poisons that are magic? Sounds like a good time."

Dawn's heartbeat was beginning to hurt. It felt like the organ was trying to bust right out of her chest. Her little deal with this sociopath was heading south, fast. Joker was the type to throw anybody to the wolves if it meant his good time being had, anyone could see that after just a few moments with him. She needed him, as much as it bothered her, to be on her side.

"I don't know how to do that. And neither do you," she pointed out plainly.

"Oh, but surely, Dawnie girl," Joker said, standing and moving closer to circle her like a vulture, "surely, with your little gifts, you must know _someone_ who does."

"I don't."

She could feel that Joker did not believe this. He circled back around her chair, grinning like the crazy that he was. Of course, he was always grinning like that.

"Really?" he asked, his gun coming back into the picture.

"Cane will kill you, Joker. He'll kill you, and he'll kill me, and we'll both be played like fiddles. Is that what you want, just so you can have a little fun?"

That seemed to reach him. He dropped the gun, shrugging.

"Spoilsport."

He put his back to her, humming some tune Dawn did not know, as he began to search through the other random items left behind in the factory. Meanwhile, stuck to the chair she sat in by nothing but her own weariness, Dawn felt a stone-like weight growing in the pit of her stomach.

It was amazing just how fast her plans were beginning to deteriorate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter's title was inspired by Styx's "The Grand Illusion."


	18. Disturbia

Another cell, another crazy inmate. This one had been Nightwing's suggestion. And, much to the Scoobies relief, The Riddler was definitely the saner of Batman's collective Rogues' Gallery. Xander stood in the corner of the cell once again, but this time it was a little more than a restrictive space issue. His eyes were glued to Nightwing, and they were shining like he was an anime character in love. He had not spoken for a little while, and Willow generally thought that was best.

"You've seen Dawn, the orderly that the Joker kidnapped?" Nightwing asked, his eyes locked on Riddler's.

The villain, his own red hair slightly mussed, seemed unimpressed by the imposing figure. Willow's eyes flew between the vigilante and the villain, waiting with baited breath for the answer to Nightwing's question.

"Yes. Quite an intelligent young woman. You don't see that much anymore. Intelligence in the young. I liked her."

A sound like the rustling of some very heavy leaves took place behind Giles—who stood in the doorway of the cell—and all of the Scoobies turned. Xander let out a strangled squeak as the silhouetted, but unmistakable, forms of Batman and Robin appeared. Willow rolled her eyes, throwing up her hand in a tiny wave.

"Hi. Willow, Giles, Xander," she said, pointing to each in turn.

"I know," the Dark Knight said, his voice like polished gravel.

Xander squeaked again. Willow sighed as Batman maneuvered into the cell, stopping to tower over the seated Riddler.

"You said that you've seen her? Tell us everything you know about the days leading up to her kidnap."

Riddler shrugged. "Not much to tell, honestly. Not much to see in this dank, cramped little cell."

"What about when you got to go to the Rec Room? Did you see her there?" Robin, his voice just on the other side of puberty—unlike what Xander's sounded like at the moment.

Willow had always heard that Batman's companions tended to be young, but she had never thought them to be that young. Robin could only be fifteen, maybe sixteen, years old. Wasn't that like… child endangerment or something? Then again, when she thought about it, they had young slayers with them at HQ. But that was safer for them, since monsters just seem to be magnetized to slayers. Batman just had these kids out fighting maniacs like the one they were looking for now. Something about that had always seemed unfair, or not right, or something like that to the witch, but she brushed it off to focus on the task at hand.

"I saw her in passing. She gave me meals a couple of nights. But the Joker talked about her often. He asked all of us if we saw the… oh, what did he call her? Ah, yes, 'the glowing girl.'"

Batman's head cocked to the side, just a hint toward Willow. Willow nodded back, muttering only, "Explain later."

The Dark Knight pressed on. "What else?"

"She bothered the clown, young Miss Winters did. He was raving one day, about how she had tricked him. Lied to him or something like it. I knew then, Batman, that she was in the Joker's sights. I wonder… if she's even still alive."

"That's enough," Giles said, his voice gruff.

"Is that all?" Nightwing asked.

Riddler nodded. "Sorry, kids. This is the one riddle I'm afraid I'm not much good at solving. After all, I never knew why Joker called her 'glowing.'"

The group turned collectively, exiting the room single-file. But, just before Batman could leave, Nigma called out.

"I hope you save her, Batman. She was far too clever to lose to the clown."

Batman turned around, his only acknowledgement of those words, before he finally left the room, closing the door behind him. Giles straightened his glasses as the group began walking slowly up the stone corridor lined on either side with cell doors.

"That was most peculiar," Giles stated simply.

"I agree," Batman said.

"You all should have Riddler re-examined or something," Willow noted.

Nightwing raised a brow. "Why?"

"He couldn't see Dawn glowing."

"Wait," Robin said, pulling the group to a stop. "So this girl actually glows?"

"Only if you're crazy. Like, really, really, really off your rocker," Willow explained.

"Why?" Nightwing asked.

"Long story. She's a Key. A mystical one. That's the shortest version we have, I'm afraid," Giles answered.

"Doesn't really tell me much," Nightwing responded.

Giles, Willow, and Xander all shrugged. Suddenly, Xander threw up his hands, holding them up so that the group knew not to move another step quite yet. He shook them once, a grin dancing across his face.

"I'm sorry. I know this is totally inappropriate timing, but I gotta get it out. Freakin' Batman! It's Batman! I can't believe this! How awesome! I've met the freakin' Batman!"

"Xander!" Giles admonished.

"I know! I know! I've already said sorry!" Xander huffed.

There was a pause before Robin finally said, "O-kay. Moving on."

And they did that literally, coming to a stop at the end of the corridor now, where the villain known as Poison Ivy resided currently. The Scoobies turned to face the Batman crew head on, ready to give the explanations they all knew were desperately needed.

"The Key… tell us more," Batman said.

Behind him, Ivy was leaning a bit on her bed, trying to glance around at all the people congregated in front of her cell. She even threw a bit of a wink toward Xander, who Willow watched jump before focusing back on the group with him.

"Some time ago, a hell god was trying to get home. She needed the mystical energy known as the Key to get there. But getting her there would've destroyed us all. The monks guarding the Key gave it a human form and sent it to the slayer," Giles said. With a shrug, he added, "Dawn."

"The slayer?" Robin asked.

"I've heard of the slayer," Batman said. "It was in the government file I cracked."

"Oh, hey, they don't like us… but we're totally the good guys," Xander put in.

"I know the feeling," the Dark Knight replied.

"Okay," Nightwing groaned. "I guess you'll explain that slayer thing to me and Robin later, then, Batman. But that still doesn't mean we can automatically trust them. Everything about the girl we're trying to find was a lie."

"Not everything," Willow said, her ire rising. Nobody was going to insult Dawn when goddess-knew-what was happening to her right now. "She's a good kid who was just trying to help her sister. That's all."

"And we can trust Miss Rosenberg. Zatanna has mentioned her. Had a few rough patches," Batman said, eyeing her for a moment.

Willow giggled nervously. "Yeah… um. Yeah."

"But," the Bat concluded, "she can be trusted. Zatanna said she's one of the good ones."

"That still doesn't mean we can trust Dawn when we find her," Nightwing sneered.

That seemed a little personal. Willow and her collective friends raised their brows as Batman turned to his partner.

"Drop it. Now."

Nightwing said nothing, and another small pause happened. Finally, with a very kid-like grin on his face, Robin clapped his hands together once.

"Now that that's cleared up, we still have no idea where to start searching for Miss Summers at."

From behind them, Ivy laughed, and all eyes turned to her. She had a dreamy look on her face as she gazed back and forth from the group staring at her to the single plant she was allowed to have in her cell.

"The green girl," she said. She sighed happily as she added, "That's who you're talking about?"

"Do you know anything?" Giles asked.

"Not a thing," the plant-woman laughed.

Batman growled softly as they turned back to the problem at hand. Nightwing shook his head.

"Still nothing then."

"And Buffy is fading fast according to the slayer I spoke with a few moments ago," Giles added.

"Fading fast?" Robin asked.

Willow frowned, nodding. "Buffy was poisoned. That's why Dawn came here. It's a long story we really don't have time for, but Buffy is dying. And the only cure is the Joker's blood. We kind of need a couple of vials of it when we find him, by the way."

Batman smiled. And this time, Willow had to agree with Xander. It was kind of awesome.

"I don't have a problem with that."

Another bout of silence as the same, singular thought floated through everyone's mind. They still were at square one. Here they were, in the middle of Arkham Asylum, the last place Dawn was seen at… the last place the Joker was seen at… and still nothing. The inmates that had had contact with either one were all singing the same song. So much for the Age of Information. Right now, Willow was pretty sure she's give her left arm for just a drop of something useful on either Dawn or Joker.

"Can you search for Dawn? Like… Zatanna mentioned something once… a way to use magic to find someone," Robin suggested.

"You mean scrying? No, I can't," Willow groaned. "When Giles hid her from us to send us here—seriously, there are a _lot_ of these long stories—he hid both her and the spell on Dawn's body. So, as long as it remains there, she's hidden from me, and oh my goddess, I can just scry for the damn clown!"

Faces instantly lit up. Why, oh, why had she not thought of this before? Dawn was hidden from her… but the Joker wasn't! She reached out, grabbing Batman excitedly by both arms.

"I need a sturdy ceramic bowl, clear water, and something personally connected with the Joker. I have the scrying crystal I need in the car."

"Easily obtained," Batman said, breaking the witch's grip on him.

"Then let's hustle, folks!" Willow said, turning and sprinting toward the exit.

#

Face firmly planted in her palm, Dawn groaned. She did not even care about the gun that the Joker seemed absolutely keen on keeping on her now. She lifted her head, watching the clown pace back and forth in front of her, his free hand cupping his pointy chin in thought.

"What if you conjure a giant cream pie that we drop on Cane as soon as we lure him out in the open? Only, instead of being an actual pie, it's a round piece of cement with whipped cream on top!"

The Joker started cackling, and thus Dawn was once again reminded of her newest problem. For the better part of the last twenty minutes, she had been trying to make some sort of plan of attack with the Joker in case Cane found them. Which, as far as Dawn was concerned was entirely possible. After all, he had found her several times before it seemed. However, instead of coming up with anything practical, the Joker was busy insisting that his vengeance be funny.

"I _can't_ conjure a cement block with whipped cream on it!" Dawn growled.

"What about a giant rubber chicken filled with bricks?" the maniac inquired.

"Seriously, what is wrong with you? I mean, for real. No. I can't."

"You can conjure a rose, but not a cement block? Why don't I drop you with Pammy then."

"That would be _wonderful_."

"Aww, Dawnie," Joker said, now clutching his heart. "That hurts my feelings."

Dawn's face went directly back into her palm, after a good bit of wincing. After all, her wounds were still fairly fresh and beginning to heal. She hurt. A lot. And on top of that, she knew her time had to be running out. She had no idea what condition her sister was in, she now had two maniacs to deal with, and she still didn't know if Giles had sent up any sort of alarm. Her time with the Joker was limited, though this was not a fact that they were speaking of. And all of plans took time… or she just couldn't do them.

And she was not stupid. She knew that the longer she was with him, the more dangerous it was. After all, she could see it in his crazy green eyes. She was going to die if she stayed with him. She was nothing but something that could be used as a weapon. He was interested in only what she could do for him, either as a magic-user or as the Key. A malleable poison… he thought she had not seen him muttering those words, over and over, considering their meaning. But she had. She knew that hanging over her head was an axe just waiting to fall. She needed to speed things up. Come up with a plan for Cane that Joker could agree to, and then she would work from there.

"Hey, what if I look up a spell to trap Cane. Then you could do whatever you wanted to him," she offered.

Joker turned, wagging a gloved finger at her. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. And how would I know that you wouldn't use it against _moi_?"

Good point. He didn't know. But Dawn shrugged it off as Joker went back to his pacing. She watched him for a moment, like a spectator at a tennis match, only her eyes moving. Finally, he sighed, almost defeated, and turned toward the very old television set that Joker had dug out of the junk here. He had also managed to get it plugged up and attached rabbit ears to them. He gave the dial on the front a turn, and it switched on with ease.

"Let's see if our little gas attack got the press's attention," he said gleefully.

Dawn had to admit that she was a little curious about this herself. As it turned out, the news was indeed covering the scene. They were reporting that no bodies had been found within the factory. Joker snapped his fingers in a sweeping motion downwards.

"Well, one can hope," he said, and Dawn nodded in agreement.

"In other news," the unseen, female anchor was saying, "there is still no news concerning the kidnap of the Arkham orderly, Dawn Winters, by notorious criminal, The Joker."

Dawn blinked, making herself sit a little straighter—which hurt more than she let on. A shot of Arkham Asylum was being shown as the anchorwoman was catching up anyone who might just now be joining in on Dawn's little escapade. Suddenly, her eyes widened. She couldn't give two shakes about the asylum as it stood right now. However, it seemed to be a live feed as the front doors were clearly visible, and they were opening. Shooting out at them at speeds that Dawn didn't know she was even capable of was the Key's favorite red-head, Willow. If Willow was here, in Gotham… well, that only meant one thing. There were others. And they were looking for _her_.

Dawn's heart swelled, joy filling her from head to toe. She could make it through this. She saw the light at the end of the tunnel now. Willow and Giles and whoever was coming for her, and all she had to do was stall the Joker into thinking that revenge was her number one goal. Surely that would be easy enough.

But then, another figure was shown, clearly following Willow out of Arkham. Even the anchorwoman took notice, whispering "is that?" into the mic. And Dawn saw a mischievous spark in the crazed clown's eyes. As high as her hopes had soared for that one moment, they now came crashing back down to the hard earth.

"Lookie, lookie," Joker chuckled. "Look whose attention you've caught, m'dear."

Dawn's eyes were already glued to the television set as Willow, followed by the unmistakable Batman, re-entered the Asylum. Joker stood, shutting off the television. He turned on heel to grin down at Dawn. And the look of it made her shudder.

"Now I've got a Bat coming after my shiny Key as well… oh, the _fun_."

His laughter was building in both volume and length, and Dawn knew it was all but over. She was nothing but bait for him. Bait, magician, or poison. Nothing but a means to an end. She should have expected nothing more, but hope was a tricky thing.

For a minute there, she thought she had seen a light at the end of that proverbial tunnel. But it turned out to be nothing but a passing reflection.

#

Under the guise of Alisha, William Cane entered Arkham. He (She) threw the doors shut behind him, his (her) growl hidden amongst the crash the doors sent sounding through the halls. Tramping through the long corridors, he (she) had only one destination. And he (she) was pissed.

The gas the Joker had left for him (her) back at the factory had done little. Though a potent concoction, he (she) was a master poison maker. An antidote took no time. But it took enough to ensure that the clown and the brat made a clean getaway. Now Cane had to find them all over again.

Turning down hall after hall, he (she) finally came to a storage room. Reaching for his (her) card key, he (she) paused. The door to the room was already ajar. He (she) pushed the door open, only to find a thin, red-haired woman standing with the Dark Knight himself. And held between them was one of the Joker's many purple suits. Cane knew the red-head. Every magic user did. She was the slayer's best friend, and one of her most powerful soldiers, Willow Rosenberg.

"Oh, um, hi," Willow said. "We need to borrow this, okay?"

_Alisha_ laughed, waving her hand nonchalantly.

"No problem. I'm sure my workers went through the proper channels and everything. I was just making sure this wasn't left open for no reason."

Batman said nothing, only brushing past her as he exited. Willow muttered some word of thanks as she followed in the Dark Knight's wake. Once they were gone, he (she) rolled his (her) eyes. He (she) approached the rack of clothes and removed another of Joker's suits.

Willow was most certainly conducting a scrying spell. Now, Cane just had to beat her to it, and claim his (her) Key. He (she) would teleport to the warehouse where he (she) had last seen Joker, the easier to assure that no one would interrupt his (her) scrying. And then, the clown and the girl would be his (hers).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter's title was inspired by "Where the Lines Overlap" by Paramore.


	19. Closer

It was their first lead since realizing that Dawn had been kidnapped by the Joker. Willow's scrying spell had been a success, leading the Scooby Gang and the Bat crew like a mystical GPS to an abandoned warehouse on the wrong side of Gotham—a descriptor of the city that made the Scooby Gang scoff and laugh. So far, all sides of this town seemed wrong. But, as they arrived outside the looming building, its once bright red bricks darkened and discolored by age and disuse, something felt strange. Stranger than anything thus far.

Willow put out a hand as the two groups left their various vehicles. She shook her head, her eyes locked on the warehouse down the block from them. She couldn't put her finger on it, not by a long shot, but the vibe was weird. It almost seemed… too easy.

"Something's off," Nightwing said, the first to voice this feeling aloud.

Willow nodded. "That's just what I was thinking. The scry for the Joker led us straight here, which isn't unusual. He doesn't have any experience with magic that you're aware of, right?"

The Dark Knight, looming just over Willow's shoulder, shook his head. The witch pursed her lips.

"I've had a pretty strange feeling ever since we stepped foot in this city, but this is the strangest yet. It's like… like playing that game where you have two pictures and you're supposed to spot the differences. Thing is, though—"

"You can't find them here, no matter how hard you look?" Robin offered.

"Not of the good," Xander noted, instantly taking the reward for understatement of the century.

"This is the only lead we have on Dawn," Batman said. "We should fan out, look for any sign of her or the Joker. But be vigilant."

The group nodded, with Nightwing adding, "I'll take the roofs."

He was gone, alone, before anyone could protest. Willow sighed.

"I guess we're hoofing it, then," she said as the remaining members of the group began to approach the warehouse.

#

Alone. Time to think. Those were things that Nightwing had desired ever since learning the truth about Dawn "Winters." He took his watch on the rooftop directly opposite one of the side entrance of the warehouse that, according to Willow, housed Dawn and the Joker. He rested one foot on the ledge of the roof, eyes baring down on the simple, metal, industrial door across from him.

Dawn had lied. He had accepted that much. But… perhaps no more than he had to her. After all, she had no idea that her neighbor from upstairs was currently dressed as a nocturnal vigilante taking part in an attempt to rescue her. Maybe it was best that Dawn might never know how angry he had been at her for her small lies—well, perhaps not _that_ small. It had been foolish, now that he had the crisp night air around him, helping to clear his head. She did nothing that he wouldn't have done, given the same situation.

But it hurt. He thought of her, sitting beside him, telling him stories about her mother and sister, about her attempted suicide. He had been so touched, so honored that she had felt safe enough with him to share these obviously personal things. And now he just had to wonder… was it all a story? Part of the lie to save her sister?

He would have no more time to think. The door to the warehouse opened and a dark figure that Nightwing could only vaguely make out exited. He could tell by little things—the gait of this person, the size—that this was a man, one who was a bit heavyset. Brow arched, Nightwing could think of no reason why such a person could be meeting with the Joker. He placed a finger to the comm link in his left ear, gently activating it.

"Batman, I have something," he began, but the loud whine of static was all that replied.

He tapped the comm, his eyes never leaving the shadow that was now making his way down the block away from the warehouse.

"Batman?" he tried again.

More static. Willow's feeling—and his own—had been right. Something was off. The comm was jammed, something that did not happen easily to any of the technology employed by Batman or those trained by him. With a small sigh, Nightwing found himself echoing Xander's words.

"Not of the good," he said, launching a grappling hook and following after the shadowy man.

#

William Cane had indeed heard of Willow Rosenberg and all the wonderful, mystical talents the witch possessed. However, the fact that his involvement with all of this, even the slayer's poisoning, was still shrouded in mystery, had given him quite the advantage.

As soon as Willow and the Bat family had left Arkham, Cane had left his disguise as Alisha behind. He performed a scry right there in the inmate personal effects closet, discovering the Joker's—and thus, his Key's—location. In truth, it wasn't far from the warehouse he had just left. Maybe a handful of blocks or so, but that wasn't the point. The point was that Willow was smart and powerful. She could sense a trap… but not until she was expecting one. So, he had altered her scrying spell, leading her and the Dark Knight to the wrong warehouse. Once inside, the group would find themselves trapped, unable to leave. At least, temporarily.

Cane _did_ know of Willow's talents. He was confident of the witch's ability to escape even one of his charms. But that didn't matter. What mattered was that he had bought what he needed most of all now that he knew that he wasn't the only one looking for Miss Dawn Summers. Now, he had bought time. Every minute counted as Cane made his way the several blocks away to pay a visit to the clown and the key.

#

It's not like colleges offered courses on being kidnapped. However, Dawn was fairly certain that, if they did, _not_ falling asleep would probably be at the top of the rule list. However, she had been the Joker's hostage—and strange colleague, in some ways—for God knew how long now. She had only the vaguest realization that her friends now knew she was in danger, and were no doubt looking for her as she sat there, dozing. But one thing she was absolutely certain of was the fact that she had not been asleep for long enough that she needed it.

She still was not bound to the chair she sat in—a good sign, she supposed—and had placed it near a table that had exactly nothing sitting on it. Joker would get suspicious if one of his weapons, or so much as a spoon, had been on the table. It would look too much like she was trying to get away. But she knew she would never hear the end of it from the Clown Prince if she were to fall asleep and fall out of her chair. So she leaned against the table, head propped up on one of her hands, and let sleep win.

At least for a minute or two. Dawn was sure she couldn't have been asleep long before the loud clacking noise of a keyboard roused her to consciousness again. She blinked, trying to get the blurriness out of her vision, as she settled a glare on the purple-clad back of her captor. The Joker was hunched over a table set perpendicular to the one she was using as a makeshift pillow. The rolling office chair he had found was ratty, with the yellow foam insides peeking out at the seams, but he had it scooted up to the screen of the computer he was tapping away at, his own gaze clearly locked on whatever was on the screen.

Did he have the internet here, in the old, musty abandoned warehouse? How the hell did he accomplish that? Dawn knew that was the least of her problems, but still… The Joker may be crazier than seeing a mirage of an ice cream stand in the desert, but there may be a large chance that the media was underselling his intelligence.

More clacking, and Dawn watched, silently, as the clown's gloved hands flew over the keyboard. He hadn't even noticed whether Dawn was awake or not, so whatever he was looking at had to be damned interesting. Lips pursed, Dawn dared to move out of her chair, leaning up in it just a bit to try and get a glimpse at the screen—still marked by swipes of dust that the Joker had missed when cleaning it off for use.

She had to squint to see, as she was a good couple of feet away from the Joker—all the better for him not to know she was spying. But from what she could make out, leaning out of her chair and praying that the old thing didn't squeak with any slight movement, it looked as if there were runes on the screen. Dawn had studied enough with Willow to know the difference between mystical runes and non-mystical—not that there was too much of a difference—and she suddenly felt as if there was a stone settling in the pit of her stomach.

The Joker was researching. And his current topic of interest? Her. Or, more specifically, the Key.

Her heart thudded against her chest. She didn't know what this meant, but she knew that it wasn't good. What had he learned, so far, that she hadn't told him? Was he learning things even _she_ didn't know? The worry was creeping up within her, and she almost fell out of her seat when she heard the sound of a distant door creak open and slam shut.

Joker whirled. "Dawnie, is that you?"

Dawn shook her head, giving a tiny wave of her hand. "Been here the whole time."

"Oh, goody," Joker said, his permanent grin widening. He withdrew a gun from within the folds of his jacket. "Company."

The clown stood, starting off in the direction of the noise, when Dawn called him to a stop.

"Hey! Don't you think I could, maybe, I don't know, use a freakin' weapon?" she asked.

Joker chuckled. "Yeah. Right. Now be a good little key and stay on your hook while Uncle Joker goes and kills the nice visitor."

With that, he vanished into the shadows of the warehouse. Dawn rolled her eyes, catching in the corner of them the glow of the computer screen. In his haste to discover the intruder, Joker had left his internet window up. Dawn grinned.

"Must've been an only child," she muttered, rushing to the computer.

She didn't have a lot of time—not once, actually, in this whole kidnapping, had this not been the case—so she lost no time. She scrolled like her life depended on it. It probably did. Again, she knew enough from her time with Willow to recognize some of the runes, and the text around the images of the runes was in plain old English. Dawn's lips were now pressed so hard together that she was sure it looked like she had sucked on a lemon… and that her face might stick that way. Joker _was_ researching the Key. There wasn't much on the site—not much more than what she had already told the maniac—but there was still a bit more, which could mean something or nothing all at once. If Joker thought that Dawn was deliberately holding information out on him… she shuddered to think of what his reaction might be.

Suddenly, a weighty hand landed on her shoulder, causing Dawn to start and whirl around.

"I wasn't doing anything, I swe—" but the rest of her defense died in her throat. Where she had been expecting the Clown Prince of Crime, there was only the hefty William Cane instead.

He grinned down at her. "My sweet Key… oh how I've searched for you."

Dawn was frozen, the warlock's hand still on her shoulder. She was weaponless, alone, and utterly, completely, frozen. There was no way she could get away, and she was at no good angle to get a hit in on him to make a break for it. It was like she was a kid all over again, some menacing vamp baring down on her, waiting to use her as the perfect bait for the slayer. Her breath caught in her throat, and for the first time since the whole ordeal began, she really felt like she was about to cry.

"Now I finally have what I need," Cane said, digging his fingers into her shoulder and yanking her to her feet.

"Let go!" Dawn struggled.

Cane laughed, gripping her with a strength that she would have never guessed the poison-maker to possess. Dawn put her whole weight into leaning away from the man just in time to hear a faint whooshing noise fill the air. Cane was too busy eyeing his prize to notice apparently, as a dark figure swooped down upon him—fist first. The momentum of the blow caused Cane to lose his grip on Dawn and go falling off to her right. Dawn blinked, trying to get her brain to focus on what had just happened as a black-clad figure down stood in front of her.

He was tall, with long dark hair. His suit was stream-line and black with only a blue emblem of a bird emblazoned across his broad chest. His face was covered with a domino mask angled to be reminiscent of a bird as well. Dawn blinked again. This was Nightwing, one of Batman's own team of vigilantes, right here in the flesh.

"Where's Joker?" he asked, his voice low and colored with gravel tones.

"I-I don't know. He went after a noise we heard," Dawn explained.

Nightwing nodded once, taking Dawn by the hand. "We have to get you out of here. Now."

She didn't need to be told twice. But before Nightwing could begin to lead the way, the sound of a bullet whizzing off a nearby pipe caused them to duck and turn. Joker was back, a faint wisp of smoke rolling from the barrel of the gun he now had leveled at the two of them.

"Now, isn't that rude? Batsy must not teach manners in his household, but you just simply _do not_ swoop in to someone else's party and steal their guests," the Clown growled.

"Run," Nightwing said as Joker fired another shot.

This one caught a pipe in just the right way, sending a spout of steam shooting off in between Nightwing and Dawn. Nightwing yanked Dawn down, forcing her to go under the hissing mist, and started the both of them running off toward the back of the warehouse, more shots ricocheting off after them.

They passed Cane's lumpy form just as he was getting to his feet, and Dawn heard him mutter some Latin under his breath. In seconds, what was once just a shadowy, dusty old building was now a shadowy, dusty, old, and _fog-filled_ building.

"What the hell?" Nightwing muttered.

"A spell," Dawn answered.

They didn't slow their run, though now their path seemed maze-like. Dawn couldn't tell which way was left, right, up, or down. It was like they had fallen down the rabbit hole, but in this case, they didn't even have a white rabbit to follow. At least Dawn couldn't hear Joker shooting at them anymore, which she was taking as the only good news at the moment.

"Where's the door?" she asked after a moment of running.

Nightwing never slowed, despite his answer of, "Don't know."

They ran straight ahead, as far as Dawn could tell, and reached nothing but more fog-filled space. Suddenly, this finite space of a warehouse seemed endless. There were no sounds around them, nothing discernable anyway, so they pressed on ahead, trying to outrun both the crazed clown and the wicked warlock. However, the sound of a small _ping_—metallic, like a pin being pulled on a grenade—sounded off just to their right. Nightwing came to an immediate stop, with Dawn almost slamming into his back.

"Did you hear that?" he asked.

Dawn had enough time to breathe before Nightwing let out an "oomph" and was sent flying out of sight by some large thing that looked vaguely like a swinging log. Dawn heard his body hit the ground somewhere off to her left with a groan, and she ran toward it, careful to stay out of the presumed path of Joker's booby trap—when the hell had he had time to set that up?

She frantically waved her hands, trying to clear as much fog as possible to give herself as much vision as possible, and managed to find Nightwing up against a metal beam. He was bruised, but breathing, and turned over so that he lay face down. But he was unconscious, completely out.

"Oh, God," Dawn gasped, rushing to the hero's side.

She knelt down, gripped one of his arms, and flipped him onto his back. She was seconds away from uttering the hero's name when she stopped, mid-name. Her jaw went slack, her eyes wide. Nightwing's mask had broken partially away when his face had made a hard connection with either the beam or the floor. Nothing else seemed broken—nose and other bones intact, just bloody—but the hero's face, his true face, was now completely visible to her.

"Dick?" she whispered.

Dick Grayson, upstairs neighbor and hot Judo instructor extraordinaire, lay before her… as Nightwing.

"God and Goddess," Dawn murmured, sure that calling on one deity was not enough to cover her surprise.

The sound of footsteps drawing nearer caused both a rising panic and focus within the slayer's sister. She felt frantically of the floor around her—still unable to see it for the fog—and quickly found the other half of Nightwing's (Dick's) mask. She pressed it to his face and recalled a "fix it" spell that Willow had taught her. A crazy giggle escaped Dawn as she remembered uttering "_oculus reparo,_" and giggling just as crazily then—much to Willow's chagrin.

But this spell, the non-Potter one, fixed the mask easier than a tube of superglue, and right in time. Dawn felt a hand land on her shoulder, and she whirled, grabbing at the wrist and ready for a fight. Honestly, Dawn had expected to see the plump Cane grinning over her… but the grin over her now had ruby-red lips and the barrel of a silver gun pointed not at Dawn, but at the slumbering Nightwing.

"Dawnie, Dawnie, Dawnie… how you wound me! After all we've been through?" Joker sighed.

Dawn stood slowly, her gaze locked with Joker's. "Let me guess… for him to live, I have to—"

"Come along, quiet as a mouse," Joker finished.

Dawn nodded. "Figures. Are you gonna drag him?"

Joker's brow arched. "I hate to break it to you, my little Key, but I was gonna just leave him."

Dawn crossed her arms. "Well, that's not good business. I mean, Nightwing found me once. What if he finds me again? Or, more importantly, finds you? Honestly, other than Batman, who else has a better chance of finding you?"

"Harley," Joker chuckled.

Dawn groaned. "_After_ Harley."

Joker's gaze slid down to Nightwing's unconscious form. "Hmm. I guess you've got a point there. Grab an arm, Dawnie girl."

Under threat of gunshot wound and death of Nightwing, Dawn did as she was told, coming up on the hero's left side. Joker bent, careful to keep his gun trained on the younger Summers girl, and grabbed the right arm.

"Not so fast!" the now unmistakable voice of William Cane called out from right behind them.

He began to mutter another spell, but before he could finish, Joker groaned.

"Oy," he sighed, aiming the gun at Cane and pulling the trigger.

Dawn jumped, letting out a squeak of surprise as the bullet appeared to catch Cane square in the chest, stopping the spell and knocking the warlock backwards. Joker hefted up Nightwing's arm.

"Let's go, Dawnie," Joker said, gun now back on her.

She nodded, her eyes locked on Cane until the fog obscured him from view as she and the maniac clown dragged Nightwing from the building.

#

It took a few moments, but Cane was able to catch his breath. Blood was filling his lungs, so he had to work quickly. He muttered the first spell he could think of, which sent the bullet lodged in his sternum on a reverse trajectory out of his body. Next, as he spat his own blood onto the warehouse floor, he muttered the most powerful healing charm he knew. It took great will of concentration, which was difficult for him at the moment, to say the least. Multiple tries later, each one making the large man angrier than the last, Cane finally felt the hole in his lungs knitting back together with the blood that managed to pool there going back into its proper vessels. He sat up with a gasp, cursing.

"I really hate this damn clown," he growled.

He had considered, before being shot by the Joker, letting Batman and the witch Willow deal with the clown so that he could better access his Key. But no more. The Joker was all his, and all Hell was going to rain down upon that lunatic. Cane had another spell up his sleeve, and he cast it as he dragged his body to its feet. He felt its success in the air, and grinned a satisfied grin.

"Let's see that damn witch scry for the clown—or anyone—now," he chuckled.

He cleared the disorienting fog with a simple wave of his hand, straightened his navy coat, and exited the building in pursuit of his prizes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter's title was inspired by "Disturbia" by Rihanna. That's gotta be, like, Gotham City's theme song, right?


	20. I Can't Decide

Honestly, how many abandoned warehouses were there in this godforsaken city? In a matter of what seemed like mere minutes, Joker had driven Dawn, still unconscious Nightwing, and himself to another empty, darkened warehouse several blocks—if not farther—away. Nightwing had been trussed up and tossed in the trunk of the car Joker was using now, while Dawn was once again in the front passenger seat, gun trained on her. She wondered what it meant for her, mentally, that she felt not one ounce of anxiety at this situation—gun pointed at her—that it felt almost normal to her.

Joker brought the car to a stop by a side entrance to the old brick building with a small screech of the tires. The clown put his full attention on Dawn now and gestured toward her door with a single shake of the gun's barrel.

"Out, by the trunk. And don't even think of running, Dawnie girl," he said.

Dawn sighed, nodding. "Gotcha," she muttered, pulling the silver car door handle and pushing open the door.

She met Joker by the trunk, which opened just a tad with a small pop. The Clown Prince opened it up all the way, and Dawn was more than a little disappointed to find that Nightwing was still very much out. She had to fight groaning. How hard had he hit that stupid beam? She'd known Giles to be conscious faster than this, and he was easily years older than Nightwing.

Joker grabbed the hero up by the back of his costume, pulling him roughly to the asphalt behind their feet. Without any instruction, Dawn took up one of Nightwing's arms, and Joker took up the other with a laugh.

"My, we must be getting into a rut," Joker commented as the three of them entered the warehouse.

There were a few small, yellowed lights on, clinging to their last bits of life on the ceiling high above them. It didn't provide much illumination, but it was enough to make their way to the center of the warehouse, where there was, once again, furniture (particularly metal office chairs) abandoned. On top of wondering how many warehouses were left abandoned in Gotham (and what this meant about the city's economy), Dawn also wondered why so many of them had bits and pieces of equipment and furniture left behind. Were all the previous owners forced out by gunpoint or something?

Dawn took a moment to glance at Joker as they came to a stop just before one of the sturdier chairs. Now that she thought about it, perhaps all the previous owners of the warehouses _were_ forced out in that way. After all, that's how she was entering this place.

"In the chair," Joker ordered, and Dawn helped him heft Nightwing into the chair before them. Once they were sure he was not going to slide out, the maniac nodded toward a similar chair just off to Dawn's right. "Now sit there and be a good girl."

Dawn rolled her eyes but did as she was told, crossing her arms like a petulant child as she did. Joker made quick work of finding some rope and binding Nightwing to his chair, arms tied to the arms of the chair, legs to legs, and then one more bit of rope around the hero's chest just to be sure. When he was done, he turned to Dawn, laughing.

"You know, girly, you have to be the most difficult hostage I have ever taken. Also, you seem to be just a perpetual hostage at that. Cane's come for you, Wingy here has come for you… and yet, here you are, still in my custody. You know, I'm beginning to think that you and Superman's squeeze should hang out some. You'd probably have a lot in common."

"Ha, ha," Dawn muttered.

Joker let out a cackle, retrieving more rope from a nearby storage container. His laughter reduced to giggles, he brandished the rope at Dawn.

"Your turn," he said.

Dawn sat up a bit straighter, her arms going to her sides to grip the arms of the chair.

"What? No! Don't you remember our deal? Why would you tie me up? You need me to help you stop Cane from making you look like a fool!" she argued.

Joker _tsk_ed, shaking his head. "Ah, yes. But, if I'm not mistaken, you decided to make a break for it—thus terminating our contract as it were—the moment trouble started."

Dawn gaped at him. "Well... you would too if you were the hostage of a homicidal clown who kept threatening your life with guns and crap!"

Joker arched a brow. "You know, I'm just not quite sure how to respond to that."

Dawn sighed. "Joker… you need me. You don't know how to fight someone like Cane. I do. You've gotta face facts. I've got the job experience here. You don't."

"Lean back, Dawnie, and I'll try to make sure these ropes don't pinch… too much."

Time was running out on the proverbial hourglass of their deal much faster than Dawn could have ever guessed. She could feel her breathing growing faster, and she let her eyes dart over to Nightwing, praying he would wake. After hours of dealing with Batman's most dangerous enemy alone, she could use a little backup. But Nightwing's head remained slumped forward, and Dawn suddenly found herself feeling a little like a kid again, wishing Buffy would crash through the door any second to save her. But Buffy was the one who needed saving, and Dawn was failing, epically, at this task.

"Our deal's not broken," Dawn said quietly as Joker began to bind her to the chair. "We both still need Cane dead. We both want the same things. We can salvage this."

Trying to reason with an insane clown-man. She was really pulling a wild card here. But she was growing desperate. She had to do _something_. Joker was done tying her up, not having to go to the extent he had bound Nightwing. He had been careful to bind Dawn's hands to the arms of the chair, leaving her legs free. Joker was not stupid, Dawn had learned that much. He knew that she was more liable to cast spells with free hands. She was honestly beginning to wonder if Joker _had_ dealt with magical beings before.

"Oh, Dawnie, the deal is broken. It's not you, my dear Key, it's me… well, actually, no, it _is_ you. I don't handle rejection well," Joker said. "The moment Nightwing came to save you, you ran off. The moment that noise sounded in the warehouse, you knew, didn't you? You knew Wingy here had come to save you."

He moved to stand over Nightwing, leaning on the back of the chair with one elbow propped up on the hero's shoulder. Dawn shook her head.

"No, I didn't. I swear. And Nightwing didn't cause that noise, Cane did. It's all been Cane. Don't you see that?"

She had no idea if this was actually true or not. Nightwing could've, indeed, caused the noise that caused Joker to run off to investigate. But, from what she had read on Batman and his team, this didn't seem their style. So she was willing to make as safe bet that what she had said to Joker was the truth.

"You _need_ me, Joker. You need the magic I know, and the knowledge I have of everything else. We can still make this work. Untie me. Please!" Dawn argued.

Joker seemed to mull these words over, moving them around in his mind just like he would move a fine wine around his mouth for a tasting. The moment of silence that followed as he did this seemed to last forever, and Dawn could feel her heartbeat in her ears now. Maybe he had understood. Maybe the pros were working out in Dawn's favor. However, when Joker pulled his gun out once more, she knew that this was definitely not the case.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe I do need _you_ alive. But I don't need Nightwing here," he said, leveling the gun at the back of the hero's head.

_Dick_, Dawn thought desperately. She shook her head.

"No! No, don't! If you kill him, I'll never help you! Cane will kill you, and he'll kill me too, and you'll be just a big patsy and played for a fool. Kill Nightwing, and you're shit out of luck!" Dawn shouted.

Joker stood with the gun still leveled at Nightwing. "Oh, really? You'd let yourself die, thus letting sister dearest die, just to save a complete stranger? How would your sister feel about that?"

Dawn grinned in grim satisfaction. She didn't even have to think about it.

"You obviously don't know Buffy. This would be _exactly_ what she would want me to do."

Another tense moment passed, gun still aimed at Nightwing. Finally, Joker huffed out a laugh, letting the gun drop to his side.

"You hero types. You always give yourself away. Fine. Wingy can live… as bait. Cross me again, Dawnie, and we'll be painting the walls red and gray matter. Got me?"

Dawn nodded. "Got it."

Joker put the gun away, and Dawn fought hard to make her relieved sigh inaudible. The clown stretched, yawning.

"I'm starving. I'm going for Chinese. Now, don't get any ideas, girl. I won't be far. Toodles! I'll bring you back a fortune cookie," he said, turning and disappearing in the shadows.

Dawn rested her head against the back of her chair, sighing. Her eyes slid shut, and she did nothing but listen to the sound of her own breathing for a moment, trying to let some semblance of peace come over her. Her heartbeat was just now beginning to slow to normal when a groan caused her eyes to snap open.

Nightwing's head was lifting off his chest, and Dawn was ready to thank any and every deity she could think of. They might both be the Joker's hostages at the moment, but Dawn just liked to think that she stood some sort of chance of an advantage with a person more experienced than her in dealing with the clown. Nightwing's eyes opened, and Dawn was flooded with joy. But it didn't last long as the hero's gaze turned to her and she remembered whose eyes were really hidden behind that mask.

"Hi, Dick," she said, but not before glancing around as best she could to make sure Joker was indeed gone.

Nightwing blinked at her. "What?"

"I know who you are!" she whispered. "Your mask broke when you smacked your face into that beam. I fixed it before Joker showed up, so don't even worry about that."

Now Nightwing seemed to be weighing some things in his mind. Finally, he nodded.

"Yeah, okay. I'm Nightwing. Where are we? What's happened?"

Dawn blinked. "Really? Really? That's it? 'I'm Nightwing' and then it's all okay! You're a damned vigilante, and you didn't think to mention it!"

"That's rich," Nightwing snapped. "I suppose you mean that I didn't think to mention it the same way you didn't think to mention the whole vampire slayer sister, dying of a mystical poison thing either, right?"

Dawn blinked. She pursed her lips and let out a tiny growl of annoyance. "Touché."

Nightwing sighed. "What have I missed? Tell me everything, from the moment you were kidnapped."

And Dawn did just that, sure to include every single detail, even about Cane deliberately poisoning Buffy and disguising himself as Alisha. When Dawn mentioned the head orderly, she watched Nightwing's eyes widen.

"Some of your friends—Willow, Xander, and a man named Giles—are here, and Willow mentioned Alisha finding her taking one of the Joker's suits. We've all been played," the hero muttered.

"I know. I saw you on the news, briefly. But that's not all. Joker knows I'm the Key, and he's been trying to find out more information on what I can do."

Nightwing shook his head. "That's not good."

"Understatement of the century."

Nightwing let out a humorless chuckle. "Maybe. So… I have every confidence in Batman finding us or something. How about your friends?"

Dawn grinned. "You have no idea how much ass will be kicked by them, especially Willow."

Nightwing grinned. "Fair enough. So we should just have to survive. Simple enough."

Dawn shook her head. Yeah, it was "simple" all right. Good thing Buffy had decided to teach Dawn how to survive in just such a situation… sort of. At the thought of her sister, Dawn felt her heart skip a beat. Nightwing had mentioned Buffy, and the fact that she had been poisoned. Xander, Willow, and Giles must have said something.

"Di… uh, Nightwing… my sister? How is she? Did they say, my friends?"

Nightwing's lips tightened into a thin line. Dawn felt her heart sink. She nodded once, grimly.

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter's title was inspired by "Closer" by Lacuna Coil.


	21. Precious Time

"Damn it," Willow muttered under her breath.

The sound of a fluttering cape alerted her that Batman had re-emerged from his shadowy search of the warehouse that she, the Dark Knight, and the rest of their group, sans Nightwing, had entered. She turned, finding that the only part of Batman's face that was visible was clearly pulled into a tight grimace. Granted, it always seemed to look like that, but this time, Willow just knew that it was warranted. Batman's gloved right hand appeared out from underneath his cape, and he tossed a tiny object that caught what little light that the building had and shined, to the witch. She caught it with minimal fumbling—and she found herself wishing that that was one area she could feel a bit "cooler" in—and groaned when she saw what it was.

"Something's wrong," Batman noted.

Willow nodded. It was a glass slide, like the kind one would use in a microscope. A single droplet of blood was pressed between the two pieces of glass, and etched into either side of the drop were symbols that Willow recognized.

"Anchors," she answered. "Damn it all."

Robin, Giles, and Xander emerged from the shadows now, with Xander shaking his head.

"Those doors are something other than just 'locked.' But one thing's for sure… we're stuck in here," he said, his one eye briefly searching the area before coming to rest on Willow once again.

"And we're the only ones. No sign that Joker, or Dawn, were ever here," Robin put in.

"No, he wouldn't be here. We've been duped," Willow said, tossing the slide to Giles with a brief word of "catch."

The watcher caught the glass-bound drop of blood and groaned. "Anchors. Bloody brilliant."

Robin arched a brow. "Anchors? What does that mean?"

Willow sighed, crossing her arms. "It means that instead of my scry searching for the Joker and finding him, it found the piece of him that was anchored. Joker is already very difficult to search for, given his crazy, so whoever put that slide in this warehouse anchored any scrying to it, instead of the clown."

Xander groaned. "Which means that Dawn—"

"And Joker—" Giles added.

Willow nodded. "Are in the proverbial wind. And on top of that? It means that someone else doesn't want us to find them. Unless someone wants to tell me that Joker is an accomplished sorcerer?"

Batman shook his head. "Joker has little, if any, experience in the mystical."

"That's what I thought. To think, though, for just a second there, I was hoping your answer would be the opposite," Willow huffed.

"So, no Joker? And where's Nightwing, by the way?" Robin asked.

Xander turned to the Boy Wonder. "Wasn't he taking the roof or something?"

"Surely he would've checked in by now?" Giles noted.

Batman nodded. "You're absolutely right." He put a hand to the ear of his cowl. "Nightwing? Nightwing, come in? Nightwing, check in!"

Static loud enough for those around the Dark Knight to hear was his only reply, and he removed his hand from the transmitter in his mask with a hiss. Giles sighed.

"Something's rotten in the state of Denmark, it would seem," the watcher noted.

"Way to go Shakespeare on us, British Man," Xander chuckled.

Giles and Willow both turned surprised eyes to their one-eyed friend, who grinned proudly.

"That's right. I know _Hamlet_. What of it?" he challenged, puffing out his chest.

Willow shook her head. "O-kay. I'm gonna try and scry for Joker again. Batman, wouldn't happen to have a map in that belt of yours, do you?"

Batman clicked a button on the left side of his belt, producing the world's tiniest folded map. He worked on unfolding it—which revealed its growing size—while Willow dug into her pocket for the scrying crystal she had—thankfully—thought to bring in with her. Batman spread the map on the floor, and Willow sat cross-legged in front of it, dangling the pointed crystal from its long silver chain over the center of the map. She began to mutter in Latin, motioning to Giles for the slide of Joker's blood. He handed it over, and Willow managed to pry it open, dropping the blood, still not dried, onto the map. For good measure, she destroyed the glass, and thus the anchoring spell.

The chain began to swing back and forward of its own accord, growing in speed and momentum. Then, suddenly, it switched to a left and right pace, and, finally, it swung in a wild circle. Willow stopped chanting, which brought the swinging chain to an unnatural and abrupt stop. She groaned.

"Someone's enacted another spell. They must have taken another sample of Joker's blood and spread it all over or something. It's like he's everywhere and nowhere all at once."

Batman pulled out a small, handheld device, glancing at its screen. He growled softly under his breath.

"I have a tracker on Nightwing… but it's not reading. Something's jamming it. And that does not happen easily on my equipment."

"Can you scry for Nightwing?" Robin asked.

She pursed her lips. "Do you have anything that belongs to him?"

Robin nodded and pulled one of Nightwing's version of Batman's batarangs out of his utility belt. Willow's brow furrowed, and Robin shrugged.

"I picked it up from a fight we were in the other night. I just haven't thought to give it back yet."

Willow shrugged, taking the proffered weapon. "Works for me. I'll give it a shot."

She repeated the process she had before, and this time, while the crystal still couldn't settle, its swinging was a bit more… controlled. Well, in all honestly, in Willow's opinion, it was more like controlled confusion. It circled over a small area of the map, but the area it circled was, in fact, quite large in real life terms.

"Nothing," Willow all but yelled in frustration, trying desperately not to throw her crystal. "There's gotta be a spell on this building. This scry was different, but still unclear. Whatever is keeping us in here is keeping us from finding anyone, let alone Dawn and Joker."

"We could blow the door," Robin said, pulling a small bit of explosive out of his belt.

"Whoa! Is that even safe?" Xander said, throwing up his hands.

"Best not," Giles said. "There's no way of knowing how the spell would react to such an assault. Our wizard may have thought of such a precaution, given your mentor's reputation in this city."

"Something bigger is going on here. Something we didn't know about when Joker kidnapped Dawn," Willow muttered.

"Okay… so… if we can't blow the door… and if there's a spell keeping us in here… how do we get out?" Robin asked.

Xander grinned and clapped the young hero on the shoulder. This garnered him a rather fearsome look from the young man, and Xander chuckled nervously.

"Ahem. Well, this is where the fact that we have the world's most powerful sorceress comes in handy. If anyone can bust this spell wide open, it's our Will," Xander noted.

Willow was close to blushing. Relaxing into a more meditative pose, she smiled up at the Dark Knight and Boy Wonder.

"I don't know about 'most powerful,' but I've done some huge crap. This wizard has absolutely _no_ idea who he's messing with. And worse yet? He's messing with family. I'll have us out of here in a jiff, then we can hunt this guy down and kick his ass."

With that, she let her eyes slide shut and began to chant. She could almost hear the proud grin in Xander's voice as he remarked, "That's our girl."

#

Buffy was worse. Any fool could see that. And, worse yet, Andrew couldn't find Willow, Giles, Xander, or Dawn to get their expert opinions on what the hell to do with the now near delusional leader of the slayers. So, instead, Andrew and a couple of the mid-grade slayers (not too new, but definitely not a part of the group that had headed into the Hellmouth) stood over Buffy's hospital bed, watching the blonde woman writhe. She was speaking almost constantly and feverishly, her head lolling from side to side, unable to focus.

"I need Willow. Where's Dawn? Xander? Giles? Please! Where are they? I need them! I need them _now_!" Buffy muttered, her volume varying between whispering and screaming.

The darker haired slayer that stood with Andrew who reminded him of some sort of pixie warrior in looks glanced worriedly down at her leader.

"We d-don't know, Buffy. We think they've gone to Gotham," she answered. "But they're not here."

"Spells. Spells, spell, spells. Spells!" Buffy repeated.

The pixie slayer glanced to Andrew, shrugging. Andrew sighed.

"We've tried all sorts of spells, Buffy. We just can't find any of them. I'm sorry," he answered.

Buffy replied in grunts, whines, and groans, her tossing and writhing growing a bit more violent. The other slayer standing with Andrew, a pretty blonde with almost abnormally long and thick hair, spoke up.

"Maybe a few of us could go to Gotham. Try to find them," she offered.

"No!" Buffy screamed, reaching out and grabbing the girl by the front of her blouse.

"Ah! Buffy! Let go!" Andrew pleaded as the captured slayer struggled.

"Why?" the caught slayer yelled over Buffy's continual yelling of "no."

"Yeah," the pixie slayer said. "Why can't we go? We could _cure_ you, Buffy!"

"No!" Buffy screamed until she was hoarse, finally letting go of her fellow slayer.

The recently released slayer backed a few paces away from the bed for good measure. She shook her head.

"Why not?"

"No," Buffy whispered now. "Can't. Can't go. Dangerous."

Buffy was relaxing now, drifting off into what brief amount of sleep she was getting these days. Andrew shook his head.

"It doesn't make any sense," he murmured. "This isn't like her. And we don't even know for sure that that's where Willow and the group went."

"Well, I hope they did," pixie slayer said. "Because Buffy's worse and her forbidding anybody to go to Gotham is damn stupid."

"But she is the boss," the other slayer said.

Andrew sighed, nodding. "Yeah. The boss."

#

"And that's it in a nutshell," Dawn finished, sighing.

Nightwing shook his head. "So, you're absolutely sure what you found on the computer was about you, about the Key?"

Dawn huffed. "Have some experience with this stuff, Nightwing. So you'll excuse me if I won't even dignify that with a real answer."

Nightwing grinned, and Dawn found herself seeing Dick's unmasked, handsome face in her mind's eye instead of what was actually in front of her.

"Fair enough. But if Joker is researching you, then it's gone from bad to worse. Not to mention this dead-not-dead warlock chasing after you."

Dawn nodded. "Tell me about it. Cane's been popping up more often than a whack-a-mole game. And now Joker knows why Cane wants me."

Here, Nightwing's brow furrowed. "A malleable poison, able to do… what? Other than kill without an antidote?"

"Too much crazy for me, I'm afraid. I have no idea what that nutbag means by that, but I'm pretty sure I don't get to survive it," Dawn groaned.

"That's a grim outlook," Nightwing muttered.

Dawn laughed. "And that's not even the worst case scenario in my brain. Life of being the Key-_slash_-slayer's sister."

The two were silent for a moment. The yellowed lights overhead buzzed like insects, filling the space between the two of them. Dawn sighed, taking a quick glance about the shadowed room before turning back to Nightwing.

"So, this is a rather hopeful question, but… you don't happen to have a plan of escape, do you?"

"Gee," the Joker's familiar voice sounded from behind them. "I hope not."

He entered into their view, arms laden with Chinese take-out boxes. He used one of his feet to kick another chair around so that it faced his two hostages. He took a seat, maneuvering the boxes so that one hand became free, and he used that hand to reach into the shadows and pull forth what looked like a silver medical tray, like the kind doctors used in surgery. Where that had come from, or how Joker had known it would be there, Dawn had no idea. But Joker sat his food down confidently upon it, and turned back toward them.

"Want some?" he offered. "I got plenty."

Nightwing sneered, and Dawn shook her head. Joker shrugged.

"More for me, then," he noted, pulling open a pair of wooden chopsticks and cracking open a box of what smelled like fried rice.

Dawn's stomach growled. She couldn't remember the last time she had eaten something. But something told her that accepting food from her captor was in the top five list of "Stupidest Hostage Moves Ever." And, not to mention, it brought back memories of a scene in a movie called _The Golden Child_ that killed her appetite pretty quickly.

"So, what's the plan here, Joker?" Nightwing asked.

Joker swallowed a mouthful of rice. "Hmm?"

Nightwing grinned. "Don't play stupid. Although, I have to admit, from what I've heard, you've been doing that a lot lately."

Joker growled, his eyes flashing at the hero. "Careful, boy. You wouldn't want something to happen to the pretty girl here, would you?"

Nightwing shrugged, which Dawn thought was horribly inappropriate timing for that move. "I'm just wondering… why were you researching Dawn? Or rather, why were you researching the Key?"

Joker arched a brow, his glance sliding to Dawn before returning to Nightwing.

"Told you about that, did she? Well, you had an easier time getting that information out of her than I did. She must have a crush on you."

Dawn had left out the torture when she had caught Nightwing up. And now, he was picking up on the Joker's subtext. His teeth gritted together, ever so slightly, and Dawn was really hoping that he would remember to keep his focus.

"Why, Joker? What possible use could you have for a _mystical_ Key?" Nightwing demanded.

Joker sighed. "Just information I feel I ought to have, Wingy."

"It's nice to be informed, isn't it, Joker?" Cane's voice rang out from the shadows.

Nightwing went rigid with alert, while Joker and Dawn both groaned and muttered, "Not again."

The rotund warlock stepped into the light on Nightwing's far side, putting him away from Dawn, but not far enough in her opinion. Joker didn't even bother to stand, though he did set his Chinese food aside.

"My, my. You just can't stay dead, can you? I know I shot you, and I doubt you're wearing body armor. Are you really _that_ fat that the bullet didn't hit its mark?" Joker chuckled.

"Fat jokes, Joker? They're really on the level of knock-knock jokes. A little sub-par for you, don't you think?" Cane remarked.

Joker shrugged. "It's been a long night. So, what brings you to my… what… third attempt at a hideout?"

Dawn had a feeling she knew the answer to this question already, and she was trying her best to wiggle any room she could get out of her ropes. But so far, it was of no use. Cane grinned at her, as if to say that he saw what she was doing there, but said nothing on the subject. Instead, he put his attention back on Joker.

"I've come for my Key. You can keep the bird, but the Key is leaving with me," Cane said.

Joker laughed, long and hard. When he finally calmed, he sighed, wiping away a fake tear.

"Leaving with the Key, huh? How's that been working out for you so far?"

"Leave Dawn alone," Nightwing warned.

Cane chuckled. "Or what? You'll glare me to death?"

"My friends are here in Gotham, Cane. They won't let you get away with this," Dawn chimed in.

"Oh, I know all about your friends. Currently, I have them holed up in another abandoned warehouse. I know that Miss Rosenberg will, undoubtedly, be able to bust free, but I hope to be long gone by then."

"Abandoned warehouse? Seriously, how bad is this city's economy?" Dawn mumbled.

Cane ignored her, putting his attention back on Joker. "You pose no threat to me, clown. You've already seen that I can survive a bullet. And I'm a master of poisons, so your toxin will do so little as to illicit so much as a chuckle from me. Give me the girl, or die regretting your decision."

Joker nodded. "Very true. Apparently you _are_ bullet proof. So, yeah, I don't pose much of a threat to _you_. But what about _her_?"

With that, Joker lifted his pistol from his side, placing the barrel right on Dawn's temple. He cocked the gun. Cane shook his head.

"Surely you've deduced that the Key must be alive for me to make any use of her, at least initially. You crave power as I do, Joker. You wouldn't dare kill her."

Joker applied a tiny bit more pressure on Dawn's temple with the gun. "Wouldn't I?"

"Don't do this," Nightwing said.

Dawn closed her eyes. She didn't know why. If she was about to have her head blown off from the side, it wasn't like she was actually going to witness it happening. But it seemed to be her body's natural reaction to the stress, so she went with it, praying while she was at it that the gun wouldn't be the thing that finally took her life.

After what seemed like an eternity, Dawn finally heard Cane sigh.

"Very well. What are your demands, Joker?"

Dawn's eyes flew open as Joker retracted the gun. She glanced over at the homicidal clown.

"I want in on this little poison plan of yours," he said.

Nightwing shook his head. "Don't do this, Cane. Make the smart decision here."

Cane arched his brow at the Joker. "Is that all?"

"Sounds like fun, really," Joker commented.

Cane laughed, grinning. "Deal."

"Shit," Dawn muttered.

"Yeah. I know," Nightwing replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter's title was inspired by "I Can't Decide" by the Scissor Sisters. I totally picture the Joker just singing away when this song comes on. Also, if any of you have not seen The Golden Child, it's on Netflix—I think—and I highly recommend it. Definitely a movie from my childhood, and I'm referring, in this chapter, to the scene with the oatmeal. You'll know it when you see it.


	22. Holding Out for a Hero

Cane's grin was forced as he gave a single snap of his fingers. Out of a brief puff of smoke, a sturdy wooden chair—perhaps a bit too ornate for its surroundings—appeared. Cane took a seat upon the chair, leaning back in it gingerly.

"We should discuss terms, then, Joker, if we are to be partners in this," the wizard explained.

Dawn's stomach felt tight, like she was on the verge of being ill. Nightwing was groaning, shaking his head at Cane as if he were a naughty child. Both Cane and the Joker ignored the two as the clown spoke up.

"I want unlimited access to this poison of yours. The one you intend to make from our mutual friend here," he explained.

Nightwing had a strange look on his face, one that Dawn just couldn't place. It was like he had an understanding of some subtext that had just happened that went right over her head. Cane, on the other hand, merely arched a brow.

"Unlimited access to my masterpiece? Why?"

Joker wagged a finger at him, _tsk_ing, "Now, now, Billy boy. That shouldn't matter, should it? What _does_ matter is that I have the leverage in these terms."

Cane's eyes drifted, just as Dawn's did, down to the gun still at Joker's side. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand, painfully reminding Dawn of Giles.

"Very well," Cane sighed. "Unlimited access you shall have."

Joker cackled once, and loud. "Good man, Billy. Good man. Now, let's get down to brass tacks. How do you intend to make said spell from Dawnie over here?"

Dawn and Nightwing exchanged a glance. This was definitely information that she wanted. If she was going to have to be tied to a top of a tower built by crazy people again, she'd like to have a little more heads up. Not that it would really do her any good, but it would just be nice to know what she was in for.

Cane's grin was Cheshire as he answered, "Actually, Joker, _you_ were instrumental in figuring that out."

"Was I now?"

Cane nodded. "Yes. The information you got out of this girl, while done inelegantly, proved to be invaluable to me. You see, it all has to do with the alignment of the planets."

"But the planets won't be in full alignment again until… well, it'll be well past my lifetime," Dawn put in.

Cane held up a finger. "Not in _full_ alignment, true. But other alignments? You see, it's what he got you to say, Dawn. _A certain time, a certain place_. Like a lock. You were absolutely right, my dear. It all has to do with star and planet alignments. Only, the combinations are limitless, and I needed only to find the right one."

Nightwing shook his head. "What are you talking about?"

"The hell god trying to find her way home is recorded talking extensively about how she had to find said way home. She needed the Key and the planets to be in proper alignment. Not never, not once, did she ever say that there were _other_ alignments, other locks if you will, to be opened by the Key. And of course she didn't. Why would she?" Cane continued.

Joker and Nightwing both looked slightly confused, but Dawn nodded, remembering Glory's desperation to return home.

"Others would look for me, for the Key, had it been known I had other uses," Dawn said.

"Exactly. But once your sister defeated Glory and you continued to exist, I began to wonder and research."

Dawn groaned. "You couldn't have developed a different hobby? Knitting or something like that?"

Joker chuckled. "Please excuse her. She can be quite rude. Dawnie, _stop_ interrupting our guest!"

On the count of "stop," Joker swung the butt of his gun around, catching Dawn in the cheek. Her head flung to the left as she cried out with the sudden shock of the pain. She could feel stinging where a cut had been formed, and it wasn't long before the familiar warm trickle of blood slid down her cheek.

"You son of a—" Nightwing began, but Cane cut him off.

"Now, now, Joker. Dawn's blood is precious. We mustn't spill too much of it. It's the only way to access the Key's true powers," the wizard admonished.

"You'll pay for that," Nightwing growled at the clown.

Joker shrugged, turning his attention back to Cane. "So, how did you come to find out that Dawnie here was still our useful little Key?"

"Well, during my self-imposed exile," Cane began, with Dawn interjecting, "You mean, your cross-dressing experimenting?"

"Quiet," Joker growled, and Dawn sighed but decided to listen this time.

"Anyway, during my exile, I stumbled across writings that suggested that there were other uses for the Key's power, but it was only that, mere suggestion. But those suggestions? Well, they were enough to solicit my attention. So, I orchestrated the whole plot of luring Dawn to Gotham, luring her into your clutches, knowing you would desire to know more about her as well. And it worked. Dawn gave me what I needed, and now I know what I must do to make my poison."

Joker cocked his head sideways. "All right, Billy, I follow. But why me? Why did you need _me_ to be the one to get the information out of Dawn?"

"Simple enough to answer. You're the cure to the poison, and I couldn't risk exposing myself as alive if she never talked. I knew Dawn would risk anything to save her sister, and I knew you would get what I needed out of Dawn if she, indeed, had the information. That way, I remained safe. And it worked beautifully."

"Sounds like a patsy or a fool's part in all of this to me," Nightwing grinned.

Joker glared at the vigilante but remained quiet. Instead, after a moment, he turned back to Cane. "So, now what? Where do we go from here?"

That question gave Dawn horrifying flashbacks, but she let them pass. Cane shrugged.

"That's simple. I have a location already prepped with everything I need to make the potion, and I believe that I've discovered the proper alignment necessary for it."

"And will that take forever? A lifetime was mentioned earlier, and I'm just really not that patient of a man," Joker inquired.

Cane waved his hand as if shooing away a bothersome fly. "No time at all. Only one planet is missing from the alignment, and I can simply give it a nudge into place."

Nightwing's and Dawn's eyes widened.

"Isn't that dangerous?" Nightwing asked.

Cane chuckled. "Probably. But it will be but a trifle compared to what I will do once my poison is completed."

Joker laughed. "I like the cut of your jib. Ooh, it all just sounds so fun!"

Joker's laughing continued, and now Cane was joining in, while Dawn—and she was sure Nightwing—was feeling a little ill. Suddenly, Cane stopped smiling. His whole body went rigid, and he threw himself to his feet.

"We have to go, Joker. Now!"

Joker stared at the man as if _he_ were the one insane. "Why? I just got here."

"I can feel that someone has broken my spell. The Bat and Willow are coming. I've stopped their scrys. They must be tracking us another way."

Joker turned to Nightwing. "Is someone hiding a tracker they didn't tell their Uncle Joker about?"

Nightwing grinned. "Guess."

Joker growled, but Cane shook his head. "Let them come. We've still got the lead, and now we are more than prepared to enact my plan. Once my poison is completed, no one, not even Batman or Miss Rosenberg, will be able to stop me."

With that, he snapped his fingers. Dawn felt her body contort—not unnaturally—until suddenly she was standing. Her arms were bound to her torso, and a glowing purple chain connected to something that felt like a thick metal collar around her neck appeared. The other end of the chain was in Cane's hand. She glanced over at Nightwing to see the hero in a similar predicament.

"Now, don't struggle, or those collars will begin to squeeze most unpleasantly. Let us walk," Cane said.

Joker stood, taking the lead. "We'll take the car."

Dawn and Nightwing began to move with Cane closing the distance just a bit behind them, the chains held firmly in his hands. Nightwing sighed, glancing over his shoulder at the warlock.

"He'll kill you, you know. Betray you and shoot you down the moment you blink," the hero said.

Cane laughed. "He's already tried that. Didn't work out too well, did it?"

Nightwing shook his head. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

#

It looked like an explosion, and maybe it could still be called one. But it wasn't C4 that caused it, but the force of Willow's counter-spell breaking whatever it was holding the group inside the warehouse. The door blew off its hinges, and the group exited without any further incident. Once outside, Batman looked to his tracking device again.

"It's reading. It looks like Nightwing is on the move," the Dark Knight stated.

Willow muttered a few words in Latin, garnering the glance of Batman.

"What was that for?" Robin asked.

Willow grinned, gesturing to the tracker. "Look."

Nightwing's original green dot had vanished. Instead, a bright blue one had taken its place. Batman looked questioningly at the witch.

"I jammed your tracker and then added one of my own. Safer for us, and harder for anyone—I don't care who they are—to remove. I made sure of that. It's game on, bitches."

With that, the group was off into the night after their friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter's time was inspired by Michael Kisur's song, "Precious Time." Little story here… this song, when I first acquired it, was hard as Hell to find. It appeared within Witchblade the TV Series and I loved it. I ended up having to have a friend download it for me off the singer's official site. Now, for everyone's listening pleasure, some kind soul has uploaded it to YouTube. Not condoning anything, folks, but it's a hard one to keep a hold of.


	23. The Lightning Strike

"Damn," Cane swore as he kicked open the door to his pre-selected location.

As it turned out, said location was atop a skyscraper right in the heart of the city. They were on the bit of roof that jutted out under a steeple-like structure that came complete with a large lightning rod. Cane ushered Dawn and Nightwing over to the far side of the roof, almost directly across from the door, and snapped his fingers. Suddenly, their chains were rooted into the roof's concrete, and the length of their chain had grown a tad shorter as well. Joker stepped onto the roof, his gun still in hand, as he took a quick look around. Dawn did the same, taking in the small wooden table—almost like one a craftsman might have—set up right behind the door. The table was laden with various vials and beakers and books and potions that could very well be more poisons.

"Not good," Dawn muttered, and Nightwing stepped closer to her, allowing his hand to just barely brush up against hers.

"We'll be fine," he replied, just as low.

Joker, for his part, was looking skyward. With an arched brow, he put his attention on the large warlock.

"You know, Billy, this skyscraper may not have been the best choice for this. This tends to be just the kind of place that Batsy and his kids like to hang out," the Clown Prince noted.

But his warning went unheeded. Instead, Cane cursed again. Joker, again careful to keep his gun accessible—apparently, he didn't trust Cane's spell to keep either Dawn or Nightwing bound-crossed his arms over his chest.

"What's the matter?"

At this, Cane finally turned to acknowledge the Joker. He let out a tiny growl of aggravation and gestured over to Nightwing.

"I tried to jam his tracker, mystically, as we were leaving the warehouse. But somebody beat me to it. Odds are, Willow and her friends are on the way here with your mutual friend, The Batman. I have no doubt she's tracking the vigilante mystically, and try as I might, I can't shake the spell."

Joker uncrossed his arms, cocking his gun and taking aim for Nightwing. "No matter. We can start the fun now."

"No!" Dawn yelled.

Cane shook his head. "Don't waste your bullets. Nightwing will be tracked still, alive or dead. Instead, just keep your eyes peeled. I must begin the spell necessary to move the planet into place."

Cane put his back to all of them, facing out toward the city. He took a seat, cross-legged, down on the roof and began to chant. Dawn shook her head again.

"You have no idea how much ass is gonna be kicked once Willow gets here. She learned the hard way to respect the order of nature. Moving that planet is just going to piss her off more," she threatened.

Nightwing grinned. "And Batman's never really fond of seeing you, Joker."

Joker laughed. "Oh, really? And here I thought we were BFFs. Oh dear."

Dawn joined in on Nightwing's grin. "I imagine those two, together, are gonna hand you your clown ass."

At this, Joker casually waved the gun in her direction. He inched a bit closer, seeming now to loom over her despite his still relative distance from the girl.

"You know, for someone about to bleed, you're getting awful cocky," Joker said, his voice dropping low.

Dawn's grin vanished, and she had to fight hard not to cartoonishly gulp. She really hoped that Batman and her friends were close by, because things had deteriorated fast. Meanwhile, Cane continued his chant, his words growing in volume. When Joker put his attention on the Warlock, Nightwing turned to Dawn.

"I speak Latin, but I can't catch what he's saying. Can you?"

Dawn shook her head. "No. But it's not good."

Almost as soon as the words left her mouth, a strange feeling took root in Dawn's core. She felt shaky and ill, like someone had slipped her a drug and dropped her blood sugar all in one go. And the more Cane chanted, the worse the feeling got until Dawn was almost bending double, a small series of grunts escaping her lips.

"Dawn? Dawn, what's wrong?" Nightwing asked.

She groaned, looking over at the hero. "Can't you feel that?"

Nightwing shook his head. "No. What are you talking about?"

The feeling was terrible. Dawn was doing everything in her power not to heave. The last thing she wanted this group to see was her vomiting. But the chanting wasn't slowing, and neither were these horrible feelings. She managed to gulp down some air, stifling the urge to hurl for just a moment to answer Nightwing.

"I guess I… studied with Willow more than I thought. Maybe I'm… connected… to the earth or something… or maybe… because I _am_ the Key," Dawn struggled.

"Aww," Joker mocked, leaning over to look the girl in the eye. "Is widdle Dawnie not feeling too good?"

Dawn managed a sneer. "You know, Joker… last time I checked… I've been through this before. And if I remember right… the score… was Good Guys, one, Hell God, zero. So kiss it, clown."

She groaned, wanting desperately to hug her stomach to stop the pain, but her arms were still very much bound to her sides. Joker threw his head back, laughing quite obviously at her false bravado through her pain. Dawn was on her knees now, moaning almost in tune to the chant. Nightwing's eyes were wide in alarm.

"What is it?"

"This… isn't right," Dawn managed.

Almost as soon as the words had left Dawn's mouth, Cane's chanting ended with the sound of thunder. A bright flash followed, and despite all common sense, all eyes turned to the rod that stood atop the steeple structure. A bright bolt of lightning arced downward, striking the rod and destroying the single, flashing red light that was supposed to give warning to planes. Tiny shards of glass sprinkled down as Cane stood, chuckling.

"Now, it begins," he noted.

Another bolt of lightning struck the rod, and Dawn let out a tiny scream of surprise. She gasped at the end of her cry, turning to the warlock.

"You did it, didn't you? You moved a freakin' planet out of its natural place!"

Joker was laughing almost uncontrollably now, and Cane was grinning from ear to ear. The amount of hubris and fear on this rooftop was a force to be reckoned with. The warlock walked over to his table, lifting a large, ornate dagger from among the items found there.

"Let's see your Miss Rosenberg do that," he challenged, stepping toward her.

Nightwing was shaking his head now almost constantly, disbelief and shock coloring his features. "You're crazier than Joker."

Dawn thought that might be pushing it. Or maybe not. Maybe she was just desensitized to mystical manifestations of evil. Either way, her face was set with a grim determination.

"Willow's gonna be pissed. Not to mention the grand coven. You're so dead. And for good this time," Dawn noted.

Cane brandished the knife menacingly in front of her, his grin still firmly in place.

"As all you children say nowadays… bring it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter's title was inspired by "Holding Out for a Hero," either the original version by Bonnie Tyler, or the two versions spawned by the Shrek 2 soundtrack by either Frou Frou or Jennifer Saunders. I own all three versions and listen to them all frequently.


	24. Bang Bang

The Batmobile and the much less impressive rental car employed by Willow, Giles, and Xander pulled to a stop just across the street from the skyscraper they had managed to track Nightwing to, with each group exiting their vehicles. They gathered together on the sidewalk behind them, all eyes turned skyward. Thunder was beginning to rumble, and Batman looked the most perplexed by this.

"There's not a cloud in the sky," he noted.

Following that, there was a large flash, and a bolt of lightning seemed to strike the very top of the building they stared at, but something else was afoot here. Willow could feel it. It started slow, like the thunder that had announced the coming lightning strike. She rested a hand over her heart, feeling as if it might thud suddenly out of her chest. Once the second strike of lightning landed, both of the witch's hands had made their way to rub her temples. Robin glanced over at her.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Someone's messed with the natural order of things on a cosmic scale. Literally," she answered.

"What do you mean?" Giles asked.

She leveled her gaze at the watcher. "Someone's moved a planet out of its natural place."

Xander's single eye widened. "What? Why? How?"

Willow shrugged. "It's possible. Definitely not recommended, though. Take it from someone who knows… natural orders exist for a reason. It's all about balance."

Batman nodded knowingly but said nothing. Willow continued, pointing to the top of the skyscraper, "We need to get up to that roof, like, yesterday."

"No problem," the Dark Knight said.

"It should be worth noting," Giles put in, "that any way we go up, it's likely to be booby trapped. It seems that our mystery magician has known of our whereabouts longer than we've known about his. While we need to do this quickly, we should proceed with caution."

Xander groaned. "I hate this place."

#

Another flash of lightning with a wind picking up and sweeping over the rooftop. Cane allowed the light of the bolt to catch the blade in his hand before he lowered it down to Dawn's stomach.

"Shallow cuts, I'm sure you remember," he said.

He pressed the tip of the blade to her flesh and yanked it swiftly but carefully in an upward diagonal. Dawn gasped and hissed with the stinging, and found herself doing so again as Cane opened up one more cut on her.

"Shallow cuts," he said again, moving away from the now bleeding key.

He snapped his fingers, and the chains rooting both Dawn and Nightwing to the roof vanished. Now, instead, Nightwing was back bound to a chair that hadn't been there earlier by more rope than he had had on his person previously, and Dawn was tied at the wrists to two poles that were themselves rooted into the roof.

"Dawn! Are you okay?" Nightwing asked as he struggled against his bonds.

Something told Dawn that no matter how ordinary that rope appeared, it wasn't going to break easily. She glanced over at the hero, nodding.

"Sadly, I'm kind of used to this," she answered. "It's all coming back to me."

Joker looked genuinely confused. "You've had a strange life, haven't you, kid?"

Now it was Dawn's turn to laugh. "Look who's talking."

The wind was growing fiercer, but it didn't seem to bother Cane. He leisurely—or so it would seem—approached his craftsman table, wiping off Dawn's so-called "precious" blood from the dagger before setting it back down. Then, he grabbed up a slender vial from a set, returning to the girl whose blood was beginning to run down the front of her clothes.

"Never fear, Dawn, my spell works a bit differently than Glory's did," he said, holding the vial so that it was catching some of the falling blood. "You see, my lock doesn't require that I bleed you out to close it."

Dawn narrowed her gaze at him. "I was under the impression that you intended to kill me eventually. You said I only had to be alive initially."

"I was under duress, and it's easier to threaten than to ask," Cane responded, his vial now nearly full.

Dawn groaned. "Well, that's all well and good then. Mind healing me?"

Cane took the vial away, chuckling as he did. "Sorry, my dear. I _do_ intend to keep you alive, in order to make multiple copies of my poison if necessary. But for me to work the necessary magicks to make my poison, I must leave the door open for now."

Another flash of lightning, only this time, it wasn't heralded by thunder. No, instead, it was followed by an unnatural roar in the distance. Dawn's eyes slid shut as she shook her head.

"No. No, not again," she muttered.

Nightwing's head whipped in the direction the roar had come from. When he could see nothing, he turned back to Dawn.

"What's happening?" he asked.

The wind was very strong now. It was a miracle that any of Cane's items were staying on his table. Dawn's cuts were stinging, and another roar sounded. Her lips parted, ready to answer Nightwing's question, when Joker beat her to the punch.

"Ooh," the clown began gleefully, "is this the part where all the walls come down to all the dimensions?"

Cane's confusion wasn't alone as Dawn turned her gaze to the Joker as well.

"How do you know about that?" Cane asked.

"Walls come down? Dawn, what is he talking about?" Nightwing asked.

"It's a side effect of using the Key! If you open one door… you open all of them!" she answered.

Nightwing let slip an expletive that she was pretty sure she had never expected the hero to say, even as Dick Grayson. But she would be lying if she said that the situation hadn't merited it. She chose not to reply, since Nightwing had pretty much covered her feelings on the matter. Cane was still staring down the Joker.

"How did you know about that, Joker?"

"I've done my own research on our girl here, too, Billy," the clown replied.

Cane seemed displeased by that, but said nothing. Instead, he gestured to a spot in the sky behind him, and Dawn saw why. A vortex was forming there. It was tiny, for now, but it was clear that with the growing winds, it would easily increase in size.

"This time, it's not _all_ worlds. But it is a majority of them," Cane noted, turning back to his spell.

"Bad enough," Dawn noted.

"Which is why this has to stop. _Now_," Willow's voice rang over the roaring wind.

Dawn couldn't remember the last time she felt such relief. But it washed over her like a tidal wave as Batman, Robin, Willow, Xander, and Giles suddenly appeared over the ledge of the roof. Xander and Giles both looked a little green around the gills, and Dawn wondered how the two of them had scaled the side of the building. But she pushed that thought aside, as Joker had clearly not been kidding when he said he was ready for them. Their feet had barely touched the concrete of the roof before Joker was firing shots. Cane was not to be taken surprise either, launching spells as quickly as possible.

The rescue group split. Batman and Robin made a beeline for the Joker, while Willow and Giles began returning Cane's fire. But Dawn was most thankful for Xander, who made his way over to her and Nightwing.

"You've gotta quit being used to open demon dimensions, Dawn, I swear," Xander joked.

Dawn laughed. "Well, I've gotta have something to do in between classes."

Xander's hands fumbled with the rope binding her left wrist, but he finally managed a grip on the knot. Meanwhile, Batman and Robin was making it look quite graceful the way they dodged the Joker's bullets, and Cane had planted himself firmly in front of his table, blocking his supplies for his precious "masterpiece."

Xander freed her left hand, and she used it to aid Xander in freeing her right. Another roar sounded, this one a lot closer than the last two. Dawn's eyes flew to the portal, seeing that it was almost double the size it had been only moments earlier.

"We've got to heal Dawn!" Willow screamed over the wind.

That was all well and good, Dawn thought, but since those words had been followed immediately by the witch having to dodge a ball of energy Cane was throwing at her, it seemed like it wasn't going to happen too soon. Another roar, but this time, it came from directly within the portal. All fighting came to a standstill as the attention shifted to the portal. A dragon that looked more undead than anything slithered out from within the whirling vortex. Its leathery, scaled flesh was rotting, exposing bone on its long tail (longer than a limo), rib cage, and face.

"Crap," Xander yelled, yanking at the knot over Dawn's right wrist.

"What's happening?" Batman shouted.

"Fun," Joker replied, aiming the gun at the Dark Knight. "See? I knew you wouldn't know it even if it bit you in the cape!"

He fired another round, and Xander cried out, "yes!" as he freed Dawn's hand. She turned, pointing at Nightwing.

"Untie him!" she yelled, wrapping her arms around her cuts.

It would do little to stifle the bleeding, thus little to stop the oncoming demons, but damn it, it was all she could do at the moment. The undead dragon roared again over head, and next a hoard of bat-like demons flew out into Gotham's night air.

Dawn turned to look up at the monsters, for a moment oblivious to the fighting around her. This couldn't be happening. Not again. Her cuts were stinging, and try as she might, she couldn't staunch the flow of blood. She was still looking skyward when she felt an arm fly around her neck and something warm and metal be pressed to her head.

"Stop!" Willow cried.

Joker had Dawn again, and he had dragged her over to where Cane stood. The two villains stood back to back, Dawn's would-be rescuers closing the gap around them. Xander had managed to free Nightwing's legs and was now quietly trying to free the hero's arms.

"Let's make a deal, Rosenberg," Cane offered.

"What kind of deal?" Batman asked.

"I'll close the portal… if you'll only let me complete my poison. Left alone, it shouldn't take me but a moment… which is about the amount of time this city has left if this portal is left unchecked."

"You're crazy," Giles yelled.

"There's always the alternative," Joker said, shoving the gun harder against Dawn's head.

More monsters were spilling forth, and Dawn was having flashbacks. She almost felt like she was standing on top of that tower of junk all those crazy people had built, gazing around at the destruction being wrought by her… by her blood. She remembered the other portal being shiny, almost pretty. It even looked pretty when Buffy had flung herself into it to save the world.

Buffy. Dawn struggled against Joker's hold. This couldn't happen again. Not because of her. Not again.

"Take the deal, Willow! I don't care! Let him make the poison and close the portal. We can deal with him later! This city can't… Gotham will be destroyed if we don't do something _now_."

Willow stared long and hard at the girl. Finally, she nodded.

"Fine. Deal."

Cane nodded, smiling. "Never fear, Miss Rosenberg. I'm a man of my word."

Joker laughed. "Yeah? Well, I'm not."

In a flash, the gun moved from Dawn's temple, to the back of Cane's head. Without a moment to lose, Joker pulled the trigger, Cane's blood and brain matter splattering out in front of his corpse as it fell to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter's title was inspired by "The Lightning Strike" by Snow Patrol.


	25. As the World Falls Down

The world seemed to freeze there on that rooftop in the moment that Cane's lifeless body hit the floor. Nobody moved. Nobody seemed to even breathe. Finally, it was Joker that broke the stillness.

"Nobody's bulletproof to a headshot, Billy," he cackled.

Batman let out a small growl, his fists clenching. "Let the girl go, Joker."

Dawn glanced over at Xander, who was making good—discreet—time on freeing Nightwing. It may be only one crazy villain on the roof now, but it was definitely not the one Dawn would've voted for. Joker moved the gun to Dawn's head once again.

"Why, Joker?" Dawn asked. More monsters were appearing overhead. She continued, "You'll never get the poison now. None of us know how to make it!"

Joker laughed. "Oh, Dawnie, I was never interested in his stupid poison. Bringing down all the walls to all the dimensions, inciting chaos and destruction on Gotham? That sounded like loads more fun to me!"

Dawn's eyes darted over to Xander, and she was thankful to see that Nightwing was almost completely free from his bonds… and Joker had seemed not to notice. She had no idea if any of the others had noticed this, but if they did, it went unsaid. Giles sighed.

"If you kill Dawn, the portal will close, Joker," he said. "Threatening her life does you no good."

"Is that so?" Joker asked, pressing the barrel of the gun closer to her temple. "You see, I never actually got to read that far ahead. Cane showed up and crashed my little party. How do I know that if I kill her, the portal won't stay open forever?"

"Think, Joker! Cane and I were mentioning it! It needs blood to stay open! The blood stops flowing when I'm dead," Dawn tried to reason.

"Hmm," Joker said. "Why don't I test this theory?"

"No!" the group shouted as Joker cocked his gun.

But Xander had finished his work. Nightwing was freed, and he launched himself at Joker. He managed to yank Dawn out of the line of fire, only to put himself in danger. Joker fired a round, and it caught Nightwing in the arm. The vigilante hissed as he and Dawn hit the ground, tangled up in one another. Joker lost no time. He took aim once again, but he seemed to forget that they weren't alone on the roof. Batman rushed forward, landing a hard right hook to the Joker's jaw. Dawn heard the crack even over the roaring of monsters and wind. Joker made several odd noises, moaning and whining, before he fell to the ground himself. Batman had knocked the clown out cold.

Willow lost no time. She rushed over to Dawn, yanking her free from Nightwing's grip. Nightwing hissed in pain, and the witch smiled sheepishly at him. Apparently, she had pushed on his injured arm.

"Sorry. I'll fix you up in a moment, okay?" she said.

Nightwing flashed a thumbs up as Willow rested her hands over Dawn's cuts. Dawn, for her part, sighed, her eyes on the ever-growing portal overhead.

"I really hope Cane wasn't lying about the blood," she commented.

Willow nodded. "Goddess, I hope not. Deep breath, Dawn."

Dawn did as she was told as Willow muttered some Latin. Dawn gasped, feeling her flesh knit back together beneath Willow's hands. It wasn't exactly a pleasant feeling, but Dawn couldn't help but feel relieved at the pain. The last of the cuts knitted together, and Dawn felt a single trail of blood roll off her stomach, falling off her side to the floor of the roof. As soon as the drop hit the ground, all eyes turned to the portal.

"Please, please, please," Dawn muttered.

The wind died away. And the whirling vortex stopped. The monsters still near it seemed to be vacuumed back into the portal as it shrunk. After a moment, the sky was clear again. The portal was closed.

"Yes!" Dawn and Xander cried out simultaneously. Willow sighed, moving over to Nightwing.

A roar overhead called their attention back to the sky. The dragon and a few of the bat-like creatures were still left. Robin pointed up at them.

"What are we gonna do about them?" he asked.

"Will, do you think you could zap them away or something?" Xander asked.

Willow finished chanting Latin over Nightwing as the hero worked out his arm, testing the injury that was no longer there. He thanked her as the two stood, with Willow sighing.

"I think so. A good witch's work is never done. But I'm not sure I can do it all by myself. I've used a lot of magic tonight… and even I get tired."

"I can call Zatanna to help you," Batman said, already in the middle of doing so.

Giles crossed his arms, looking thoughtfully to the demons in the sky. "Maybe we should put a few slayers here in Gotham."

Dawn huffed. "That would've been useful a few weeks ago."

Behind the group, Joker groaned, beginning to come to. Batman finished his call, presumably to Zatanna, and moved to loom over the clown. Joker looked up at the Dark Knight and huffed out a tiny laugh.

"Can't blame me for trying, can you?" he asked.

Batman yanked him to his feet, removed a pair of handcuffs from his utility belt, and began to restrain the Joker.

"You're going back to Arkham, Joker, where you belong."

Dawn launched herself to her feet. "Wait!"

She dashed over to Cane's craftsman's table, pulling up one of the empty vials and a cork. For good measure, she grabbed up the dagger the warlock had used on her. She approached the Joker now, with Batman careful to keep a hand on the clown. Joker arched a brow at her.

"Whatcha doin', Dawnie girl?" he asked.

"This might sting," Dawn said.

She placed the tip of the dagger to Joker's cheek, drawing it upward in a similar diagonal as to what her cuts had been. Joker hissed against the wound, and Dawn reached out with her left hand to hold his head still. She gripped his chin as hard as she could muster, holding the vial underneath the dripping blood. She squeezed a couple of times to add insult to injury—as well as to get the blood to flow a little faster. It took a couple of minutes, but the vial was a little over halfway full. Dawn let go of Joker, corked the container, and stepped back.

"Something to remember me by?" Joker teased.

Dawn ignored him, looking instead to Batman. "No way in hell was I going through all of this and _not_ getting what I came for."

Joker laughed. "Give your sister my regards."

"Kiss my ass," Dawn replied.

Batman seemed to grin at this, and he glanced over at Willow.

"Zatanna will be here momentarily," he said.

Willow nodded as the Dark Knight began to haul the Joker away, Robin following behind. Nightwing grinned, turning to Dawn.

"I should go with them. But, before you leave…" he began.

"Don't you have my number?" she asked.

Nightwing chuckled. "Yeah. I guess I do."

"Good. Don't lose it," Dawn added.

#

The trip back to Scotland was a sort of a mixed blessing. Dawn had, of course, received a lecture about running off to Gotham without so much as explaining herself to Xander or Willow. It was kind of fun to receive this "yelling at" though, since her sister's friends also made sure to include Giles in their scolding. After all, the watcher had orchestrated the whole thing. However, it wasn't all trouble, as everyone was undeniably happy that they had gotten the cure for Buffy.

The moment the group had arrived at the castle, they had rushed to the infirmary—where they had been briefly informed by Andrew that Buffy was "almost gone." Willow lost no time in administering the antidote by adding it directly into Buffy's IV. Then they waited, the group just sitting around Buffy's bed. Only Giles dared leave, but only for a moment. When he returned, he had a book in hand and retook his vigil with the rest of them. It took just a matter of twenty or so minutes, but improvement was clearly visible. In another hour, Buffy was stable, just sleeping. It was clear that the leader of the slayers would live to fight another day.

"Thank God," Andrew said, running a nervous hand through his hair.

He had caught the rest of the group up on what they had missed while being in Gotham, including Buffy's descent into madness. Andrew shook his head.

"She wouldn't even hear of anyone going to Gotham. It was crazy. She even attacked a fellow slayer when the poor girl suggested it. It wasn't like her, and it didn't make any sense."

Willow's brow furrowed. "Yeah. I know what you mean. Buffy didn't even want us going."

"Actually," Giles put in, pointing down at his open book, "I may have an answer for that. It says here that that particular poison created by Cane fed off of fear. In fact, it was the basis for the poison."

"What does that mean?" Dawn asked.

"It means that every tiny fear that Buffy had ever felt was amplified a million fold, which led to the onset of severe paranoia."

"You can say that again," Andrew muttered.

Dawn growled softly as the truth of this washed over her. "Cane knew what he was doing, then."

Xander glanced over at her. "What do you mean?"

Willow shook her head. "Dawn means that Cane used that particular poison for more reasons than just to send her after the Joker."

Giles nodded. "He knew that the fear would have Buffy preventing anyone from going after Gotham's most dangerous criminal. And he knew that, being the leader, we would listen to her. Or, at least, the majority of us."

Willow grinned. "He overestimated our abilities to follow orders… and he underestimated how much we care about one another."

Dawn laughed, the move turning into a wide yawn as she said, "Yeah."

Giles closed his book with a snap, looking over at the youngest Summers. "You should rest. You haven't slept in… well, a while."

"I'm fine," Dawn protested, but another yawn betrayed her.

"Buffy's fine now," Xander put in, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"She'll likely sleep until the poison is out of her system. Go. Rest," Giles said.

Dawn glanced worriedly over at her sister's slumbering form. She glanced back at the group to find Willow grinning knowingly.

"We'll call if anything changes for the worst. But it won't. Go sleep."

Dawn nodded, standing. She flashed her friends a bright smile, thanking them again for coming after her, and left the infirmary. The slayers had left the room they had initially set up for her alone, and she began to make her way toward it. She was about halfway there when her cell rang. She pulled it out of her pocket with just a quick glance at the ID. She smiled.

"So, do I still get free Judo lessons?" she answered. "Because it'd be pretty cool to get them from Nightwing."

On the other end, Dick chuckled.

"Well," he replied, "I'd like to ask you out to dinner some time, but now I feel like I'm using your lessons for… well, in exchange for personal favors."

Dawn laughed. "That didn't sound wrong at all."

"Yeah," he answered sheepishly. "That came out completely wrong. But you know what I mean."

Dawn sighed, stopping just outside the door to her room. "Dick, why don't you just ask me out?"

"Fine. Dawn, would like to go to dinner with me the next time you're in Gotham?"

Dawn smiled. "I would love to. I'll call you later. I'm going to try to sleep. Bye."

"Bye, Dawn."

The line disconnected, and Dawn entered her room with a wide smile on her face. She tapped her fingers on the phone, now guiltily trying to decide what the proper amount of time would be in between her sister waking up from a very near death experience and going out on a date in another country. In the end, as she crawled into bed, she decided she would give it a few days before broaching the subject with Buffy herself.

_fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll have to do two here since there's not another chapter. First, last chapter's title was inspired by "Bang Baby (My Baby Shot Me Down)" by Nancy Sinatra. And this chapter's title was inspired by "As the World Falls Down" as sung by David Bowie on the Labyrinth soundtrack. (RIP Bowie, so incredibly missed!)

**Author's Note:**

> I'll give the song title credits in the following chapters.


End file.
